


Living he could do. Moving on, not much.

by IceGoliath



Series: When Captain Cold and Heatwave try to play hero [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Cameos, Criminal Behaviour, Family, Fire, M/M, Voices in his head, parenting, teenage flamethrower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-11
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 03:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 32,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12334464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceGoliath/pseuds/IceGoliath
Summary: The one where Mick Rory unwittingly adopts a teenage flamethrower and The Flash gets concerned about the girl who takes out bank vaults and calls Heatwave Dad.There is also the matter of the apparitions and the voice in his head and what happens when he really listens.AU set after season 1 finale





	1. If he were a car, he’d be an insurance writeoff

If he were a car, he would be an insurance write off

Time had slid by since Len, the inconsiderate shit, had decided to go hero and get himself killed. The man he'd loved in varying degrees for most of his adult life, who he had followed without question was dead, and they didn't have anything to bury.

Mick had swallowed his pain, but it still remained, sitting in his stomach like a stone; later accompanied by the darkened eyes of someone who had not slept properly for weeks, as every time he closed his eyes he could see that skinny bastard looking grim just before he cold clocked him and everything went black.

As he understood it, the oculus was a time machine and that Len had either travelled somewhere and was raising hell or was distributed throughout time and space. Another thing he understood was that he was willing to pull apart the universe with his bare hands to get him back.

Rip, the person who should have been the most sympathetic to his predicament, wasn't willing to alter time and space. He wasn't willing to do anything. Something about changing the future and paradoxes and fixed points and the end of said universe.

Time travel really gave him a headache.

After unending waiting; in his opinion wasting time and after another blazing argument consisting of threats to Rip's mortality, the heat gun beckoned and flashes of red spread through pockets of the ship as he cackled with glee and thoughts of vengeance.

He awoke on the floor of a cell, remembering nothing, with Sara glaring down at him, arms folded across her chest, full of angry disappointment.

"Do it quick" He groaned, rubbing the back of his head, where he was expecting an injury of some sort.

A vague visual image of walking into Rip's quarters with the heat gun appeared in his head. Sara's lips twitched in amusement

"Not going to kill you Mick."

The door to the cell unlocked and he was ushered down corridors, off the ship and into a field by the silent assassin. He glanced at the surroundings, confused, before the realisation kicked in and his eyes narrowed. Sara sighed at his response.

"We had a vote, it was unanimous. You're too out of control."

Of course he was out of control. He felt like his soul had broken, that there was only half of him left.

"Help me bring him back then" He bellowed, bristling with rage.

"We can't" her voice regretful "It is a fixed point now"

"So, you're going to leave me here."

"You're in Central City, 6 months after Rip picked you up. We erased your record and your reputation. Your life is wiped clean to do with what you want"

They had voted to leave him. All of them had, even Haircut. Appeasing him wasn't going to cut it.

"You think that will help? Where's my gun?" He demanded.

"We're keeping that"

Mick felt his stomach rumble, this changed his mind about being angry, a guy had to have priorities.

"What about seething to eat?"

"Behind the bush to your left."

He sauntered suspiciously around the bush and found a huge black canvas hold-all containing money and possessions like she'd raided his cabin whilst he was out cold.

A neatly cling filmed sandwich like the ones Haircut would have stored in the fridge sat on the top. He grabbed it before gravity did then closed the bag, slinging it over his shoulder and stood still to study the face of someone he'd though of as a friend.

"See you around Micky"

Sara turned and went back to the ship, not looking back as the door closed and the ship rose into the air, leaving him behind.

He stood alone in amongst grass as far as the eye could see. Sunlit green leaves and flowers waving happily in a gentle breeze minding their own business and ignoring his frustration.

He dropped his bag by his feet and roared.

Birds flew from the surrounding trees into the dazzling sunshine and blue sky overhead. It was around midday he assumed, no wonder he was hungry.

Why couldn't they have dropped him in a different city?

He and Len had taken Lisa camping in a field like this. It had rained and he'd spent the whole time sitting in the tent bitching that it was cold whist Len and Lisa played some sort of game outside.

A groan of distress erupted from the back of his throat. He wished he could take that moment back.

That he could have Len back.

That he could have his old life back.

He bit into the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully, his mind calm and ready to consider the options.

Getting Len back was impossible, even Sara had said so and she'd come back from the dead.

He couldn't stay in Central City, not the place where all the memories were.

First task was to find Lisa, to explain to her that her brother wasn't coming back. He made up a last wish, something that he knew Len would have wanted for her, even though he'd never mentioned it out loud. An education, a life without crime. He transferred her the college fund that Len had set up when he was old enough to save money for her, then decided to leave her alone, easier for them both to deal with.

From that moment, he was just another scruffy homeless guy with a fondness for hitting things and setting stuff on fire. All he had to do was forget who he used to be.

Jobs seemed to find him.

Falling in with one crowd after another because he was intimidating and knew his place. He worked security for a few gangs in Gotham. Watching the exits on jobs and backing up kids on club doorways who had no right to be there.

But, as soon as he got a reputation, he was gone. Nothing but a ghost, who sometimes went by the name Rory Calhoun, sometimes by Leonard Wynters, but the latter made him feel guilty, so it didn't last long. Eventually, he had no name at all. A drifter. A rumour.

Keep your mouth shut and watch your back, another one of Len's mantras, if they were ever alone.

He was sure he spotted Lisa once, her belly protruding underneath a coat, holding shopping bags, walking with friends. At least he thought it was her, he could have been mistaken.

Moving on to Metropolis, Mick joined a group of cage fighters and accepted any physical retribution by others as penance for still being alive, a decision that left him with broken bones which would dog him for the rest of his natural life.

When that didn't work, the next step was drinking until he passed out, soaked in booze and pain.

Years drifted by, time he'd spent trying to fill the hole in his soul, as least he was sure that it was years. It sure felt like it. He'd lost track of time as soon as he got off that damn ship and didn't care. It seemed to go on and on, grief never stopping. It had been so long since he'd felt anything different, that it was now a habit he couldn't break.

After one night of heavy drinking, he woke in the waiting room of Midway bus station and by that evening he'd ended up accidentally joining a squad of bounty hunters who could follow orders and handle a gun, but couldn't plan for shit.

The only exception in this misfit fatigue clad group was Victor. When he walked into the dim back room of the bar, the room went silent

A little shorter than Mick, on the more muscular side of average. In his 40's, but he couldn't quite be sure. Ex army turned bounty hunter, with a sly grin that twitched a scar on his top lip.

The feelings hit him 5 days in, like backdraft. He never saw it coming.

They were on a job. Something about a biker known as Razor with a ridiculously huge gambling debt to the casino He was shown a grainy photograph, but not given any more information.

They found the Razor hiding in a dirty bricked window fronted dive bar on the outskirts of town and waited out of sight, under the veil of pink neon from the obscenely large bar sign, using hand signals to communicate over the volume of the rock music coming from inside. Out front a rack of Harley's stood, practically begging to be shoved so they fell like dominoes.

Victor had gone in first whilst he waited outside. A few seconds later, Victor burst backwards through the window with a yell of indignation, the sound of shattered glass echoing down the alley way. A cloud of stale sweat and cigarette smoke overwhelming as he got closer to the carnage and paused at the shards of glass glittering like diamonds on the pavement, reflecting the pink neon, Victor in a heap in the middle.

"Got the drop on me" Victor muttered, throwing a wedge of money at him, before rising off the floor and shaking off the glass like a wet dog. He face suddenly etched with confusion then rage.

Those gravelly words were strangely effective, words that left him too distracted to notice Victor had gone back in. His body was a traitor.

This time Razor went through the windowless frame, then another man joined him in a heap on the pavement. Victor emerged through the front door with a split lip and something long and silver in his hand, beckoning for Mick to leave the premises before they were caught.

Mick shoved the bikes as he went past, they crashed into each other, echoing in the alley. He grinned with pride at the noise.

It turned out Victor was a black belt in some type of martial art, not that Mick listened properly after that night, focusing only on wayward black spikes and trying to squash the overwhelming need to run his fingers through them. He would glance at him whilst he was planning, twisting those goddamn dog tags that he could have died for, around his fingers, every so often Victor would look his way and give him a slow smile that made him want to tell him his name.

If that was Len, he knew their dance. With Victor, he didn't know what to think.

Life he could deal with, moving on, not so much.

The squad decided to take a job in Gotham a few months later. Mick passed, not wanting to go back. Anyway he was to old for that unrequited shit.

Afterwards, there was a crew who looked liked suspiciously like a Captain Boomerang tribute act, all twisted grins and metal teeth. They wanted him to start a fire as a diversion.

On another job, he was suited, booted and forced to shave and was sent out at a debt collector to a family business who couldn't pay. By the time reports of a fire had filtered back to his employers bosses he was long gone.

No attachments, no distractions, but he was no puppet.

He took a job as far away as he possibly could after that. A transport freighter of stolen Playstations or something. Not that he cared.

The boat docked a couple of weeks later in Star City to unload. Dismissed, job over. Payment accepted.

Then weeks of following jobs and money across the country, in a mixture of hitchhiking and chauffeured limousines, depending on the employer.

The latest destination unknown.


	2. Flame tainted retina

p>Mick waited on a cold metal bench in the back of a truck, feeling the vibration of the engine under his feet and flicking his lighter, watching the little flame flaring then snapping the lid closed. No-one sat on the opposite bench to irritate and driver was behind a blacked out window, soundproof by the lack of response at his fists pounding on it in a futile attempt to drown out the torturous tinny Christmas music that was playing loudly through the rear speakers.

Suddenly, the truck abruptly slammed on it's breaks, a door slammed, the driver he assumed, though the engine was still going. The doors flew open, leaving Mick to clamber out into pitch black, with the hold-all that held all his worldly possessions landing on tarmac with a thud. The oily smell made him pause when it caught in the back of his throat as he breathed in. He leapt out the way as the truck spun it's wheels in reverse, then sped off.

Leaving him standing alone, the contact for the job nowhere to be seen. They'd stood him up, something that hadn't happened since high school when he bothered to go. He waited for a while, growling with impatience. Three days until the next pick up with nothing thing to do. If there even was a pick up.

Peering into the darkness, he pulled out his hood up from under his jacket to shield his neck from the cold breeze that weaved its way through the holes in his jeans and wrapped around his bones. The surroundings appeared to be industrial. Discarded metal and engine parts scattered amongst abandoned brick buildings. Lights blinking in the distance caught his attention, where off in the black there was a vague approximation of music.

Picking his bag off the floor, he grunted at the situation. Couldn't stand there til morning and get collared in the process.

Sticking close to the towering buildings he pulled up his hood, camouflaging his face, his bag slamming into his back with it's not inconsiderable weight. Pacing between closely packed factory buildings, a newspaper fluttered against his leg, caught in a breeze. He glanced at the headline and above in large print.

Central City Citizen, November 21st 2020.

What the fuck was he doing back in Central City? The words burnt.If he went to Saints and Sinners, who would be there? Were the rest of the rogues still around? What he would give right now to squash the tight ball of pain mixed with uncertainty in his chest.

Suddenly, orange flared hypnotically in his peripheral vision. Distracted, he moved closer towards it, breathing quickly, gasping, like there was not enough air in his lungs.

A blinding white light threw him backwards, body flying through the air like a rag doll, only stopping with a crunch against a brick wall, crushing his shoulder.

He blacked out.

The white light was gone when he awoke, the sky still dark, but closer to dawn than he would have liked.

He staggered up, using the wall as support and scanned the surroundings. Ignoring the pain, -he was used to his shoulder giving up by this point-, in his mind the location of the flames taking priority. Heaving his bag back onto his other shoulder, a bridge caught his eye and he turned in the direction, taking medium sized steps, towards it, wary incase it happened again.

The great mouth of the bridge gaped blackness as he crunched his way towards it over grit and old sleepers. Under one of the arches, there was a figure hunched up in a corner squashed up close to the wall. Too tiny in the shadows to be an adult, he noticed they were untouched by what had happened. Their hands were on fire, but no screams escaped their lips, eyes diverted towards their fingers, as hypnotised as he had been.

He looked away and took note of the surroundings, brickwork mixed with graffiti, soot, darkness. White people shapes against the wall in various positions of terror.

The child raised their head and finally noticed him, fingers flaring.

A girl.

"They tried to hurt me" her voice small, but defiant. "Are you here to hurt me too?"

"Not gonna touch you Kid." He tried to say as gently as he could, stepping closer at the same time. She curled up smaller, the closer he stepped. "What did you do?"

"I got scared. It happens sometimes. Leave me alone"

"What's your name Kid?"

"Torch" she whispered, so quietly, that he could barely hear.

Her flames turned blue.

He edged towards her, like you would approach an apex predator. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

How are you doing this? How are you still breathing? No-one can ever be around me."

"Special talent kid."

"Are you a Meta too?"

"Me? No kid"

"Torch" she said "Not kid." her voice insistent as she stood. Coming up to the middle of his chest. The flames licked higher up her arms. The fabric of her clothes stayed in tact like she was protected.

"Close enough old man." She waved her hands at him, as if she was shooing mosquitoes.

He looked down at the girl, who looked about 10. She was tiny and blonde and out of control. He smirked, she reminded him of Sara.

Pale blue eyes watched him suspiciously from under a greasy looking fringe as she pushed bedraggled shoulder length hair away from her face with her hand, leaving a smear of dirt across her cheek.

The jeans and sweater she wore had so many holes that they were just about being held together. Black tape secured the soles of scuffed trainers.

He could recognise someone who needed help, though this was not quite altruism if there were flames involved and possibly a little destruction.

"What do I call you?" She asked.

It was a good question. He was many people. A ghost.

"Heatwave" he said without thinking.

The words left his lips and he felt numb. How was he going to be Heatwave without his gun? Without Captain Cold?

He slumped down next to her morosely and wrenched his arm back into it's socket.

"That's not a real name?"

He grunted, half in pain and half saying 'and yours it?, without actually speaking. She got the point and they sat in silence, waiting for the sun come up.

"What can you do?" He asked eventually

"I burn things."

"Awesome" He said unenthusiastically.

Sirens cut through the silence. Mick looked towards the entrance. He could see lights reflecting in the puddles made by drips from the ceiling.

"Cops" he spat, before looking over at Torch.

Her face distorted with abject panic.

"They can't find me. They'll kick me out this time" she spluttered.

He'd had seen that look before and the tone that accompanied it, defiant with a lingering hint of afraid.

He grabbed her arm without speaking and started dragging her through the darkness until their lungs burnt. They came out by bars, familiar shops and street corners. When the sirens were far enough away that their ears were no longer ringing, they paused under a street lamp.

"Ok. Time to go home kid."

She said nothing and he left her leaning against the street light, her hands flaming a little at her fingertips.

He'd saved another dumb kid. He seriously hoped that it wasn't getting to be a habit. Hopefully, this one wasn't going to follow him home and try to be part of his life. He couldn't handle that again.

He turned and walked away, leaving her creating shadows in the light, justifying that she could take care of herself. Half way up the street he turned back and she had gone. His body letting go of any agitation, he continued following his memories, taking alleyways, hugging the darkness that was slowly ebbing away.

More side streets, less people. Every so often a flare of orange shot into this peripheral vision, the basic instinct to follow it overwritten by his desire to get off the streets.

3 km out off other side of the city, he could see her without the flames in the muted colours of sunrise. Stepping into the darkness between two buildings, he waited for his shadow.

He grabbed her as she walked past and pulled her into the gloom.

"Why're you following me?"

"Wasn't" She said stubbornly

"So we're headin' in the same direction?" He pulled what he thought was his most intimidating glare.

She said nothing. Her hands going out before she jammed them in her pockets and looked at her feet, kicking her shoes on the tarmac. Waiting when he didn't move.

"Where do you live?" He asked

Again, silence. he could now see her hollow eyes, skinny frame of someone who hadn't eaten for a few days. He'd seen it before. Recognised it.

"Ok, come with me."

He was sure that he was getting soft in his old age.

"Where?"

"Our home"

They walked in silence until they came to an unlit house. It was a two storey, with an untidy front garden and flaking paint.

"Ours? Where's everyone else?"

"Gone"

He breathed deeply partly in exasperation and partly at the memory, saying nothing.

He climbed the steps to the front porch and started digging around in a pot next to the door, the dead flowers crunching under his fingers. Even in the dim early light, he couldn't see. He reached into his pocket, and rummaged around to find his lighter. Locating the familiar cold, he removed it from his pocket and flicked it open. Nothing. He kept trying until his fingers were sore from the friction.

"Shit." He said under his breath. "I need light" He snapped at the girl who was now looking at her nails in bored annoyance.

"You need what?"

"Light. Fire."

"Magic word?" she uttered belligerently

"C'mon kid" he snarled.

"It's Torch" She hissed, her voice getting louder.

"Please" He ground out, if only to get her to be quiet.

Torch's face lit up with a grin at the same time as her fingers. She walked towards the door and tilted her head in a silent question. Her hand lit up and she held it over the plant pot. From what he could see in the shadows was that her hand without burn or scar. He eventually found what he was looking for after digging deep into the pot, drawing out a small key.

He stood and opened the door, watching her hands go out as he did so.

Inside it was pitch black. He patted down the corridor with his palms to find a light switch. He looked back, noting that Torch had stopped on the doorstep, her fingers flaring.

"You coming in not?"

Her fingers dimmed slightly, giving off an eerie glow, as she followed him into the house. The air was stale and dusty. Her flames, revealing shadows.

"Wait here." Mick growled, letting his bag drop with a thump onto the carpet.

He flipped the light switch and the hallway lit up.

Quiet and dingy, his favourite safe house for when they were laying low.

He remembered the place like he'd been there that morning. The other version of himself.

Stepping into the kitchen, which in his mind was bright and lemon yellow. He could picture Len, leaning back on a chair, with his feet on the table, eating cereal, pointing at him with a spoon telling him that he was wrong. It happened so often that the memory had been ingrained.

Then the room went dark again. He walked around all the other rooms.

Piles of books on a coffee table in the living room opposite his favourite beige overstuffed armchair and the sofa they'd stolen from an art gallery for the hell of it. The widescreen tv reflected the window from its position on the back wall.

He could see Len there, lying on his back on the sofa, reading a book, feet propped up on one of the arms. Mick shook his head and the image was gone.

Effie followed him silently up the stairs.

They walked past Lisa's old bedroom, peeling wall paper, full of dust and spiders. Old posters curling at the edges, separated from the wall by dried out sellotape.

He stood in the door of their old bedroom. Again Len appeared, wandering around the room, reading chemistry books on the window seat, waiting for him in that big bed, smirking like he gave a damn.

Mick blinked and his vision disappeared.

His heart clenched in disappointment. What was he doing here? A question he couldn't answer.

He walked out of the room, noticing the girl had followed him, he slammed the door in front of her nose.

"What's in there?"

"None of your business. You can have Lisa's old room. I'll figure out what to do with you in the morning. Just stay out of my way." His tone blunt, finding her constant questions irritating.

He shoved her towards Lisa's room, pushed her in and shut the door, ignoring her indignant objections. He crossed the hall to his own room and opened the door. Muted sunlight flickered through the gaps in the curtains, he pulled them closed, ignoring the feeling of uneasiness and got undressed before sliding between the sheets, painfully aware that he was in this particular bed by himself. It felt wrong.

He'd spent the first year after leaving the ship seeing shadows of his partner. In every mirror, every dark room, shimmering like bad tv reception. Bitching in his ear every time he made a mistake. It slowly faded in a haze of fire and violence, then was replaced by silence.

Now he was back in Central City surrounded by his past. One that he had tried his best to forget.


	3. Conjugate the verb to obliterate

He awoke to the smell of smoke. It was only faint, so it could be from anywhere. He squinted in the brightness that filtered through gaps in the unopened curtains, trying to remember where he was.

There the smell was again, stronger this time. He recognised the nuances of the smoke. Whatever was burning was cotton.

It was a party trick. He was blindfolded and something was lit on fire and he had to guess what it was. A joker (Axel probably ) set fire to Len's parker once. That did not go down well. He had a 98% success rate though. Cotton, he was sure that it was cotton.

Everything fluttered into focus. The safe house. His life in a twisted version of domestic, with thieves and hackers, liars and murderers.

He leapt out of bed, not bothering to get dressed, and ran to the kitchen. He pulled everything out of the cupboard under the sink until he had found what he was looking for, leaving a heap of discard cleaning items on the linoleum, making it to the living room just as the flames that were licking up the curtains had started to leave a proximity soot stain on the ceiling. She was watching them, a hypnotic trance. It took all his willpower not to do the same.

"Torch" He bellowed, half in awe, half in anger.

He roughly opened the extinguisher and watched as the foam smothered the fire until all that was left was a wet wall, singed curtains and a soot spot on the ceiling. He mentally thanked Len that it was not worse. He was the one who had insisted on the fire retardant curtains rather than the pretty polyester ones that Lisa wanted that would have gone up in 2 seconds. He was also the one that had bought (stole) the fire extinguishers and shown him exactly where he had put them.

Len was very specific that he didn't want to get caught thanks to a bit of smoke. Strange to think that all the effort that was made for him was now being used for someone else.

This was his house. The one place he'd felt safe enough to sleep.

He watched her. She was still standing there, staring at the curtains.

"You put my fire out." She said softly.

He could not tell if she was sorry or disappointed.

"Stupid little brat." he growled.

She turned to face him. Mick was scary at the best of times. Glaring down from his 6ft 2', arms covered in burn marks, scars from bullet wounds and knife fights, wearing nothing but a pair of grey boxers and holding a fire extinguisher.

He could usually glare at someone and they would back away very fast. Not her. Not this kid. Her face remained passive. Not even scared. He was sure he hadn't lost his touch.

"I invited you into our.."

He did it again. Faltering for half a second, he resumed his fury. "My home." That sounded completely wrong as it left his lips. "And you try to destroy it."

He dropped the extinguisher as emphasis and it landed with a soft thud on the sodden carpet.

"It was an accident" She said, quietly, then when she repeated her statement, her voice clear and at his volume "It was an accident. I got distracted."

Her hands flared, but by this point he didn't care. He had enough burns, one more was not going to make a difference.

"Someone could see the smoke and call the cops."

He grabbed her arm and pulled her her towards the door, then opened it, checking in the road that no-one was out in their perfectly manicured driveway and shoved her out onto the path.

It was still early, a light mist hovered over the cars in the driveways and the gardens. She blinked a few times and just stood there.

Another one of Len's plans. Hide in plain sight. it a highly populated residential area would be one of the last places to look for career criminals. A nice suburban neighbourhood, still, Mick didn't want to draw attention to himself.

"Leave" He hissed as he slammed the door. He didn't bother to look out the window to make sure she had gone, he just fingered the curtains.

He picked up the extinguisher and took it back to the kitchen, lying it on the table and watching it roll, before it stopped. He sat down in one of the chairs, rocking back on the. legs. A memory scratched at the the back of his mind, the last of his indoor barbecues. Len hadn't said a word at the time, just opened the extinguisher and fired foam at it until it was put out.

Mick glanced up at the black scorch mark on the ceiling, the carbon smell returning to his senses. His gaze gradually switched back to the room and the spectre was gone.

He had had Len. She had no-one. And that little girl was back out on the streets to cause trouble.

But, today he wasn't in the mood to deal with any of that shit. He would ignore the niggling thoughts, the unusual guilt. All of the strange feelings he really didn't like very much. He would watch movies instead and not think about it.

Mick spent the rest of the day, languishing in the living room, comfortable in a grey sleeveless hoodie, old sweats and feet in grubby trainers resting on the coffee table. Cautiously sharpening a knife he'd found in a drawer and watching a documentary on art theft, laughing at the parts they got atrociously wrong. Len would have had a fit. He finished the bottle of whisky that one of the rogues had stashed away for emergencies and crashed onto the bed face first, fully clothed. His mind drowned in alcohol, thankfully silent.

The sun winked through the curtains when his eyes jolted open to a loud thumping noise. Stomping across the floor, slamming doors as he crossed the hall, through the living room to the front door. He took a deep breath and opened the door and glanced down to see the small girl from the day before, who wedged herself through the gap between him and the doorframe. Startled, he stepped out of the way and watched her grab a book before settling herself on the couch, like she had always lived there.

He grunted in annoyance and amazement. It wasn't the sort of thing that happened, usually people would avoid him and occasionally cross the street. She sat quietly as the minutes ticked by ignoring the him glaring at her from the doorway, trying his best to look intimidating, which fell flat and left him feeling like an idiot.

When it got to an hour, he felt like he should say something, as he was about to open his mouth she reached into the rucksack that he hadn't noticed before and brought out a pre-packaged sandwich from the market two blocks away and a beer. She passed them to him without a word, them went back to reading. It was dark by the time she left. They hadn't said a word.

Two days later the door went again. She made herself comfortable in his armchair and started reading. He watched martial art movies and had forgotten that she was there, until she offered him a sandwich then opened another herself.

"Why are you here kid?"

"It's quiet." She murmured around a mouthful of sandwich "and it's Effie, not kid."

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Homeschooled" her tone distracted.

"Shouldn't you be at home then?"

"Bad idea." She muttered before returning her attention back to the novel.

"Won't someone be looking for you."

"Run away a lot."

Not even looking up this time, she closed the books, then grabbed her bag and left without another word. She did exactly the same thing for day four.

By the time she left on day five, he started to wonder who she was and why she was frequently getting in his way. He'd only saved her once, that shouldn't count as a declaration of friendship. The last friends he had, had abandoned him. He didn't need friends.

Mick paused in the kitchen, to grab something that resembled dinner, only finding a granola bar at the back of a cupboard. He chewed on it thoughtfully as he tried to figure out what to do next.

What would Len do? He'd find the right person for the job. You don't take a gun to a knife fight, so why should a version of that not apply now?

Who knows how to find information? How could he contact them?

Finishing his bar quickly, he crossed the floor to the sofa and dug deep between the sofa cushions for Len's contact book. He had always been way too cautious to rely on technology for everything. Today it would work to Mick's advantage.

He leafed through until he came to R.

Rathaway, H

One of the Rogues, a stray they brought home once. Other's joined, went and came back, but he was the first. He hoped that Hartley was still alive. He ripped the page out of the book and stuffed it in his pocket. Routing around at the bottom of a pile of washing, he found his phone, dialled the number on the piece of paper and let it ring. It picked up after a couple of rings.

"Rathaway.' Mick ground his teeth impatiently.

"Rory?" His voice hitched in surprise "I thought you were dead."

"I'm not."

This was dangerous. Being in debt to Rathaway was a mistake. Len would have gone nuts, but then again Mick thought this situation was entirely his partner's fault. He had to die. If he hadn't they would still be on that stupid ship with all their shit and be stealing things occasionally. He was only doing what Len would do.

"Missing girl. looks about 10, name's Effie"

"Bit young for you."

The snide remark reminded Mick how much Hartley irritated him. He may have been the first rogue they took in, but it didn't mean he had to like him.

"Fuck you Rathaway." He moved the phone from his ear the hang up, when he heard a shout down the phone. He put it back to his ear.

"A joke. Just a joke. What do you want?"

"All the information on her you can get."

"Is she your kid?'

Mick growled. He'd been with Len on and off for years. Never cheated. You hear that Len, he shouted in his mind to the one person who he swore was still there in the back of it, feet up on his hippocampus, fixing his cold gun. He'd spent too much time laying low or on downtime between jobs with nothing to do except work out and watch the discovery channel.

At the growl, Hartley decided against the line of questioning and changed tack.

"Runaway?"

"Meta"

"Are you thinking of adopting?"

Mick ignored that question. Rathaway had a habit of getting up his nose and he wasn't in the mood for an argument.

"How do I find you?"

"Safe house five"

Mick turned the phone off, removed the battery and broke the sim card in half.

By day seven he was confused. She had got through half the books on the coffee table, it was like she inhaled the words. He hadn't got rid of them, it he did he would loose another part of Len. That irritating horder part that filled the whole place with books, mostly science fiction. This time, he gave her half of his customary sandwich, which today had been ham and cheese, when he noticed that she had forgotten to bring her own.

As soon as darkness fell, she got up and left, the way she had arrived. After he heard the door slam, he grabbed his car keys and stepped out, checking the mailbox as he went. A brown envelope was stuffed in, curled up at the edges. Rathaway must really have valued his limbs or still had some degree of loyalty. To tell you the truth, he preferred the latter.

He followed her down the street, stopping to open his car. A legally obtained car. Len would be ashamed. The dark coloured Ford was perfect for late night recon, She stopped at a two storey detached house with a large sloping garden. The door was open, with two people talking over the threshold. The light coming from the house was bright and lit the path that she ran up, then she slid around the doorframe and disappeared. No-one even noticed her.

He pulled in on the other side of the road, cut the engine and wedged himself low in the seat, reaching over to grab the brown envelope he had thrown on the passenger seat. The information Rathaway had dug up. As he leafed through the file he found that her bio looked a lot like his. Things catching fire, years of visits psychologists, who certified her and gave her pills. Family, missing. Parents left her at CCPD age seven, with a note that they couldn't cope with her anymore.

Mick knew he was no position to judge. He had had Len, if he didn't, he would have walked into the flames a long time ago and not come out the other side.

A ream of unsecured pictures, all of fires, one of a seven year old girl, a mug shot, her foster home, fell out into his lap and into the passenger side footwell. He ducked to pick them up, then looked up when he heard shouting, the resulting movement nearly making him bash his head on the dashboard. It was Effie, she rushed out of the house, a bag on her back, hands aflame, and disappeared into the night.

Before him was a reflection of himself, but this kid didn't discover volatile explosives when she was nine, she was one. He took a deep breath and drove away, resolute at the next step. She was like him. That would have to do for now.

On day eight, he waited on the front porch. It was a habit, going outside. Len hated the smell of cigarette smoke and had banned it from the house and from his immediate presence. He found a packet in an old jacket hanging on the back of the kitchen door. Now there was no-one to bitch at him, he lit up and as the chemicals filled his lungs, he remembered why he quit. He decided to finish the three left in the packet out of stubbornness.

He was on cigarette number three when she sauntered up to the house, he blew the smoke out of his nose as she approached. She raised an eyebrow at the fact he was waiting for her, then waved her hand at the lit end of the cigarette and the ember flared. He dropped it in surprise as it turned to ash.

"Those will kill you." she snorted

Only partly aggravated about the destruction, he grabbed her by the arm and wordlessly pulled her inside, slamming the door. She pulled his hand off her arm, fingers heating up.

"What else can you do?" He demanded

Those words made her flames go out.

"Don't know." She said dismissively. "Never really tried"

"Come with me."

She followed him through the kitchen and paused as he opened the door that lead to the garage, before following close behind. She didn't seem at all concerned as to her location.

Being a flamethrower made you fearless, he assumed. Then again, he had learnt not to assume anything about anyone. He was curious, so sue him.

Newspaper covered the windows and the walls bare concrete, striped like it was built as a flat pack. On one end was a cork board with pins and strands of coloured string hanging on corner. A sturdy looking wooden bookcase with named cardboard boxes alphabetically arranged and wedged onto the shelves. The mustiness of damp paper combined with stale coffee emanated from every pore. A few had webs in the corners, where Mick had left them alone. This was their home as much as his. At the other end stood a big wooden desk covered with burn marks and knife holes. Underneath, sat an old CD stereo, upright two foot tall speakers sat in each corner of the room. Mick cleared the top of the desk of papers with a sweep of his arm over the surface.

She walked over to the pile of CDs, stacked haphazardly next to the stereo. He watched her pick up the cd cases gingerly and looked at the covers that were mostly Guns and Roses and Metallica.

"Helps me concentrate." He said in response to her puzzled expression.

Not that it was much good sometimes, when Len would hum catchy show tunes for the rest of the night in retaliation for playing a song with a particularly long drum solo.

He pulled some boxes marked survival from a shelf unit and dug inside, pulling out a stack of candles and set one of them on the desk

"Len didn't like surprises. Light em up." he said quickly before she could ask who Len was. He was not in the mood to answer that question.

Flames generated from her fingers, the air in the room thinning slightly as it gathered heat. She held her hand around six inches from the wick and thrust the flame towards it.

The candle exploded. Wax flew everywhere. Mick laid out another candle.

"Again."

Once more she tried again. Another explosion. She screamed in frustration.

"Step back." He stated calmly "Take a deep breath and concentrate. Slow and easy"

She shook her arms then breathed deeply. A small flame danced on the palm of her right hand. It curled into a little ball and floated above her palm, giving off a little glow. Effie smiled at it, the glow lighting her face. She blew the little ball towards a candle and it sat itself on the wick, taking a teardrop shape.

"Not bad."

She leant against the desk grinning.

"How do you know all this?"

"A friend. Knows a lot about fire."

Trying to explain Firestorm would have taken a while. He chose his words carefully.

"And I had a heat gun. Len stole it from a scientist. He always gave the best presents" his voice wistful before he realised and it snapped back. "Can you make it hotter?" He asked, rapidly, getting excited by the prospect of being in the presence of a human flamethrower and also changing the rather uncomfortable subject.

"Only when I get scared, but I can try."

She created the fireball again and breathed in deeply. The fireball started to get lighter, white swirling at the centre, staring at it as if she could see nothing but the flame.

Mick felt his lungs tighten, every breath becoming short. Dry and burning. He could just hear over the rush of blood in his ears

"Stop it." She glared at him like he was playing a trick. "Stop it." Her voice getting higher as the flame quickly got hotter. He knew that all she could see was the flame, struggling to control it "Stop it. You can't leave me. Everyone leaves me"

He turned to look at her, scratching at his throat. His face contorting in pain. He knew it was his fault, that he shouldn't have pushed. With one last conscious thought, he blacked out.

Mick awoke on the floor, cold air on his face. The garage door was open revealing darkness staining the sky. He was alone.

Drowsy, he closed the door. A hazy memory of all the air disappearing from the room and a girl with flaming fingers floated in his head as he wobbled into the house, then passed out on the bed.

The morning was greeted with a headache of epic proportions.

"Effie" he exclaimed abruptly, as he turned to sit up on the side of the bed.

He got up and raced to Lisa's old room. It was dark and empty. After a check of the rest of the house, he slowly realised she must have thought he was dead and did exactly what he would have done.

"She's nothing but trouble, could put me back in Iron Heights" He muttered to himself.

"Jail is an occupational hazard" drawled the voice in his head. "and you like trouble"

Lenny was back, the voice he hadn't heard in years. Why now?

It took a while for him to run it through his brain. The girl. He shouldn't be in charge of waifs and strays, especially not one this dangerous.

"Fuck" His words an echo, tone that of a person looking for absolution or salvation or a mixture of them both. He had to find her.

He showered and dressed. Opening the chest of drawers by his bed, he removed his favourite silver lighter that fit nicely in the palm of his hand. He flicked it open to check for gas, and it flared into life, leaving him smiling at the four inch flame, before snapping the lid shut.

Cash, he could't rely on credit. Too traceable. He levered up the bottom panel of the wardrobe and pulled out a duffle bag. To his amazement it was still there, there had to be thousands. He pulled out a wad of 20's, closed the bag, put it back in the hole and replaced the panel carefully. He took one last look in the kitchen. The spectre was no longer there. He opened a jar on the counter top and took out the front door key that he put it in his pocket.

"This is a big mistake" He said under his breath.

No-one answered.

Mick locked the door as he left. You could never be too careful in a neighbourhood like his. You never know who the criminals could be. Pacing down all the side streets, the bright lights of the 24 hour market fired in his brain. Head covered with his hood, eyes averted, focused on the floor, he shuffled down the aisles picking a ready made sub of the shelf. It was a lot more difficult to pocket a sub, that was Len's thing. He grabbed a can of coke, slammed it and the sub on the counter with a few notes and growled at the server, not bothering to look at them.

"Phone"

He phone was added to his pile of junk, which he swept off the counter and pocketed.

He tore into the sub as he swept into the darkness and chewed angrily.

"Bad idea Lenny"

Talking to himself. He was doing alright until he arrived back in Central City. Why the fuck was he still in this dump anyway, when he could be somewhere else causing some damage?

He took another bite, this time more thoughtful.

He was being drawn back into his old life, but without the one person that made it a life. He walked side street after side street. Quadrants of the city looking smaller that they used to. He found her quicker than he thought he would, back where he'd started the night she exploded into his life.

The sun beat down, casting shadows between the pillars of the bridge. He saw her, curled up in a tight ball, clutching her knees, every so often she would look up blow sparks off her fingertips. He waited until she had stopped and walked cautiously towards her in the same manner he had done all those days ago.

She stared at him, expecting him to yell at her.

"Didn't mean to scare you, Kid"

He had to wrap his mouth around the words, it sounded strange. He didn't usually apologise.

"Torch." No response "Effie?"

She gazed up at him her eyes wide and scared.

"You're still alive. I thought I killed you. I thought you were dead." Her voice barely a whisper, choking up in disbelief.

"Tougher than you think" He said softly

"The only person who's not afraid of me and I almost killed you."

Mick shook his head slowly in realisation, and sighed, shoulders dropping.

"I can't take responsibility for you. Look at me."

She looked up with wide eyes. "Do I look like a people person to you?"

"You're talking a load of shit an you know it." Her words made him falter slightly.

"I'm a criminal. I'm 50. Been by myself a long time." Each excuse that left his lips, sounding more pathetic than the last.

"We're not that different."

"I can't take care of a kid."

"I'm not asking you to take care of me. I can do that myself."

You must be about 10."

"13" Her face darkened slightly.

"As much as I would love to see this city burn. Have to keep low right now."

"How are you going to be a criminal?"

A perfectly legitimate question that put the speech of 'you can't hang around me' on the back burner. No pun intended. He hadn't thought about being a criminal in a long time. Actually, physically taking something that did not belong to him. If he took that life again, he would remember his partner and wonder why Len had to die not him.

Not that he'd gone straight, He'd just pissed about, using his natural talents rather that having a plan. What could he do without his heat gun? His stomach lurched at the thought. His brain having other ideas, suddenly firing with ideas, it was unnerving. This girl had talent.

A plan was starting to form in his mind. Something to satisfy that internal yearning to be part of something again. She was virtually a heat gun. His chance to go career again and if she turned on him, he was dead. In his mind it was win win. He would be playing with fire, right where he belonged.

A distraction to fill the hole on his soul.

"You can handle my power." In the excitement, he realised that she was still speaking. "You love the flames as much as I do. I can help you." She said, her voice taking on a more persuasive tone.

It wasn't a bad idea.

"Why would you want to help me." A suspicious tone.

"you're the only one who's let me stick around."

"Not as if you gave me a choice, brat."

"I wasn't kicked out though was I?"

He growled at Effie as he thought about it. It was quite true. The image of the white shadows on the wall leapt into this mind.

"You have to learn control"

"Anything. As long as there is no killing. Been there, done that."

His expression changed to confusion at the flippant remark, but he chose to keep is mouth shut.

"Do you have a real name?"

He stuttered for a second before replying.

"Mick."

The conversation turned to silence as they eyed each other skeptically, trying to figure each other out. One would have to make the first move.

Silently grabbing Effie's bag, he indicated for her to follow him back to the safe house. On the way he picked up the newspapers that lay on the front lawns of his neighbours.

A job. Time to have some fun.


	4. The kid he never wanted

The kid he never wanted

 

Effie slept fitfully on and off for two days. He could hear her moaning through the walls and the crack where he had slightly let the door open. The only other sign of life, being the food and drink he left by the door being replaced by empty plastic packaging in a heap in the corridor.

By the end of the week, she'd left Lisa's old room and was shuffling around, but he wasn't sure entirely sure what to make of her. She was cleaner and sporting well worn jeans, t-shirt, a jumper and beaten up trainers.

It was like having a new animal in the house. She wasn't like one of the rogues; who made themselves at home as soon as they stepped through the door, embedding their existences into every pore of the house.

Eventually, she joined him in the living room, shyly pulling the corner of her jumper from her perched position on the arm of the sofa. He continued to watch the television, ignoring teenager staring at him, feet up on the table, stuffing his face with ice cream.

She got up and padded out of the room, he heard the clink of metal in the kitchen, but ignored it. Then a spoon appeared in his peripheral vision.

"Gerroff" he complained, mouth full. "Do you know how hard it was to get decent ice cream on..." He stopped himself. That was something she didn't need to know "the boat" he continued.

She dipped her spoon down again and winced at the noise as he fought off the silverware

with his own.

"Not sharing"

He possessively placed his hand over the top to protect the tub from a probing spoon. Eventually she gave up, putting her spoon down on the coffee table and making herself comfortable on the other side of the sofa.

"What are we watching?"

He handed her the remote control without speaking.

"Something with explosions" she grinned, changing the channel.

Two movies later, she has shuffled closer and they were sharing a bag of popcorn. By the time the credits rolled on movie number three, it was past midnight and she sloped off to bed, leaving him alone. For the first time in a long time, he didn't want to drown any emotion in alcohol.

Rising the next day by mid afternoon, he corralled her firmly into the garage and stood her in front of the board. Effie's dexterous fingers fiddled with pins and string and pictures at his request and under his guidance, until the cork board looked like a multicoloured spider web.

Blue pins for gems, red for tech. Green for the artefact on the move. Yellow for B and E, Purple for full on mission impossible.

He ran his finger over the green string, stopping at a newspaper cutting of a blurry painting.

"This one" he uttered from his position close to her left ear. "A painting in the museum is being moved to Midway in two days"

"We need to get into museum security. I'll myself lost, get to security, take a look around."

Mick lost in thought, shut off the buzzing interference of the girl who had clearly not heard a word he'd said. He could tell she'd watched too many episodes of CSI. Then again, so had he. Gotta keep up with developments and he liked the stories. Couldn't beat a good action movie of course, but that was not the point.

"It will be an armoured van." He continued "There are usually two drivers armed with something portable, a small calibre. They'll be taking the quickest route out of the city, which is the east side. We're going to surprise them on the highway."

"We can dress up in guard's uniforms, say that we are taking over for security reasons and drive it away."

"Or we could just take it.' He said shortly, dampening her enthusiasm like a damp towel over a flame. "I drive and you take out the tyres."

Effie pulled her favourite berligerant expression.

"Is that all?"

"When the van comes up next to us, fire at the tyres, go for the front left, they get control, go for the other back one. We need them confused and off the highway. We get the code, grab the painting and leave before the cops get there."

Snart had always been so fussy, a simple way was sometimes best. This was his crew now. Well him and a teenager, but you had to work with what you had. Effie frowned, looking put out. He ignored her, brain too full of thoughts.

How would they get rid of it afterwards? This was getting way too complicated.

Len always said know about what you were stealing. Too high profile, it would be hard to shift, too low profile, there is no point. Know your exits. Know your plan inside out.

Mick, not really a book person, liked to learn by more practical methods. He'd lost count the amount of times he'd watched Len pinch the bridge off his nose in exasperation. He just liked to play dumb sometimes for the hell of it, to see how much Len could take before he got the cold gun out and threatened to ice him with it.

After a few decades, Len could see right through the ploy and he made Mick learn the plan and repeat it back parrot fashion. Not his idea of fun.

He wasn't going to do that, this was his crew.

"You need to be able to aim." he said gruffly, as she rolled her eyes and let the flames grow enough to lick at her arms.

She took a deep breath and pushed him forcefully out of the garage, shutting the door. Enter Sandman cut through the silence at an atrocious volume.

Shadows crept under the door and the atmosphere in the house became humid.

He checked her progress as the sun came up. Scorch marks spattered the garage, flaming edges on shelves, the paint on the walls bubbled as she hit a target from the other side of the garage.

Mick raised his eyebrows at the destruction in amazement as she crossed in front of him, went through the kitchen and up the stairs, slamming what he assumed was her bedroom. A few hours later, he opened the door quietly, a slice of light from the corridor slid into the room.

Not Lisa's room anymore. It belonged to her. Effie's meagre clothes hanging in the wardrobe. Her shoes on the floor where she'd kicked them off. The lump in the bedclothes where she was curled up, silent.

The safe house felt different. A voice in the morning, when there had previously been none. Food in the refrigerator, bowls in the sink, new books on the coffee table. It was like a home. Mick hadn't realised how much he had missed company, until he had it again.

How had he let it come to playing house with a teenage Meta?

Now he had someone to re-discover the long neglected piles of ninja movies with him. He could watch what he liked now with no need to be wary of imminent reprisal or possible concussion. No-one in that safe house had ever appreciated the art of Chuck Norris like he and Effie did

By eight that evening, Mick was hopping from foot to foot impatiently in the garage, glaring at the cork board.

None of the pieces fit together. How had Lenny done this? Who knew that there were so many details to be considered. Why did it have to be so complicated?.

He needed a vehicle, something massive in case they needed to ram something.

He left her sleeping and cased the neighbourhood, hitting the jackpot a few blocks over.

A massive red pickup in a driveway. Double high beams, covered back for camouflage, high suspension, thick tyres, more of a monster truck than something you'd take to the shops. Tendrils of darkness the perfect camouflage for what he had to do next.

He woke Effie who swore at him sleepily, before joining him downstairs in the darkest clothes she owned and a hood over her head. She climbed into the truck and stared out of the window as he pulled away.

They travelled in silence, fully aware that it could all go horribly wrong, parking halfway along the east highway and waited under the florescent lights. It hit 2am when they spotted the armoured truck, Mick started the engine, watching Effie in the rear view mirror as she climbed over the seats to open the pick up back fully, clipping it down on catches, so it wouldn't slap the back of her legs when they moved and sat on the edge, her back to him, legs swinging innocently off the side, like she was on a swing, rather than about to commit a felony. He revved the engine and screeched onto the highway, facing the oncoming vehicle and noticed she was sat still, he knew she was staring at the flames.

"Effie" Mick shouted to get her attention as the truck came closer in windscreen. Close, closer, he had to hold his nerve. He swerved and and came up the left side. He waited for the flames, but they didn't appear. He watched the truck pass.

"Make the plan, execute the plan." Len's voice taking over

"Hold onto something" Mick yelled, then he realised he hadn't told her what to do if something went wrong.

"Expect the plan to go off the rails." Len's voice again.

He hit the breaks at the last second and the truck sailed past. Seconds later flames flared, shooting down the side of the truck, bubbling the paintwork, melting the rear left tyre. He grinned, so happy to see those flames.

The truck pulled to the right at speed as if the driver was trying to regain control, Mick revved the engine, and reversed skidding on the road to swerve and block it's path. He quickly glanced at the rear view mirror, as Effie fell to the side, gripping the back of the canvas covering.

"Fuck. Effie, hold on."

He saw flame after flame fire at the tyres in desperation, hitting the front left and watched as the truck tilted to the side the rear swinging out, the momentum rolling it over. Metal screeching down the highway, leaving long gashes in the road, it stopped with a crunch on the central reservation

The truck lay immobile across the carriageway, the smell of leaking gas and break dust in the air. Mick got out of the van, watching Effie as she scrambled out of the back. Blood dripped down her face, showing vividly under the spots of light and against her pale skin, she rubbed the drops off her cheek stood beside him.

"What did I do?" her voice tiny and remorseful as she surveyed the carnage. "Are they still alive?" She left his side and walked cautiously to the cab of the armoured truck. She looked up at him, pale.

As she checked the drivers, he pulled at the back door of the truck. He pulled it hard, before noticing a numerical panel next to the handles.

"Check them for a code" he yelled

Effie emerged from the cab, shaking her head.

Nothing. Of course, they would have one at that destination. He'd forgotten. Stupid.

"What now? They would have called the cops as soon as they were hit."

"Abandon the plan" For once Mick would listen to the voice in his head.

"Blow the doors." His voice urgent

"I've never tried something that big before"

"Do what you did to the first candle, just bigger.

"You're too close."

"We're outside. Do it."

She created a flame and took a deep breath. The flames on her hands changing colour. Red, blue, white. He stared at the mesmerised.

Mick awoke in the recovery position with Effie watching over him with eyes full of excitement, holding the painting. Sharp chunks of metal lying on the floor, around the back of the truck. The cops would be completely confused.

"Knew you could do it, brat." He grinned tiredly.

She barked a laugh in response, nudging Mick with her foot.

"You need to drive."

He rose slowly and with her help, pulled himself into the drivers seat. She took off her jacket and wrapped up the painting, hiding it's true identity.

They drove back in the silent darkness, Mick letting Effie sleep, still clutching the jacket wrapped painting. He woke her up as they go to a disused car park, continuing back to the house on foot through night stained streets.

The painting was stowed in the bag, with the money, under Mick's wardrobe.

Hours later they were back in the garage. Mick at the board, staring at it zombified. Effie trying to light candles, getting two out of three.

He had demanded that she go back to basics.

What good was a heat gun that couldn't aim under pressure.

Unhelpful thoughts running around in his brain. He should have expected that outcome, he missed something that Len had always done and he had almost succeeded in getting them killed. He glanced at Effie, who was breathless, her face taut with concentration.

To admit to himself that he was having trouble, seemed like he was admitting defeat, but using Len's methods everything turned out a bit better. It was quite rare that they almost died. Make sure your whole team knows your plan inside out and upside down including what to do if it all went wrong.

Unfortunately, planning was not his thing.

Also, they'd have to lie low for a while until the coverage calmed down. The painting had been a mistake. Too big.

Weeks blended into months. Charred smells embedded themselves into the walls and furniture, scorch marks on the carpet. Enough fire extinguishers to seriously deplete their meagre funds from the bag in the wardrobe as she'd moved on from candles to bigger things. He'd started stealing shop mannequins from dumpsters in the dead of night.

Mick made her practice until she could light the candles the first time at a distance. Physical effort and failure. That was the kind of teaching he could do.

The big question was, what else could she do?

He shuffled into the garage, ignoring Effie who was busy igniting a mannequin from 3 metres away.

He grabbed a damp looking cardboard box from a high shelf, it slipped down, causing his legs to buckle slightly, he held it at the bottom, to stop it from falling apart.

"you're frowning" He said to Effie, on his way out.

She stopped what she was dining and glared at him.

"I'm concentrating"

"It's your tell."

"A what?"

"Lets the opponent know if you are about to do something. If you are close to them, it will be a problem."

She stoped frowning and takes a deep breath.

"Better?" She said, not looking around.

He left with no response, knowing that it would drive her crazy and that she'd take a break.

He waited for her to enter the kitchen, patiently standing in the doorway holding the box and observing her as she got a can from the refrigerator sat down. It was the perfect opportunity to try other Len's method. Research.

She popped the top eyeing him suspiciously as he stomped over and slammed the box on the table, which wobbled slightly. She opened the box cautiously.

"Books?" She spluttered in indignation, pulling thick tomes out of the box, which were a bit warped, but still legible.

She flicked through the pile, in disgust. "Mechanics, chemistry, history of art."

"History of art can't have changed too much, Unless the Legends aren't doing their jobs properly."

"Who are the Legends?"

"You read too much fantasy." He uttered, changing the subject. "Pay attention to the science ones, you might learn something."

He turned and walked away, smirking at her various curses. There was no point arguing.

That was the problem, Mick concluded. She didn't listen, so much like him.

"Knew you would come round to my way of thinking" drawled Lenny's voice inside his head. Mick grunted at the statement

"Out of my head Snart," he demanded.

The last thing he needed was a gloating figment of his imagination. The voice obeyed and disappeared.

Every night after she finished reading and sloped off to bed, he opened the text books and read page after page until the sun came up. Len would either have had a heart attack in excitement or would have bitched at him about it, either way he would have been speechless for a few minutes and that was good enough for him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re robbing a bank” and the story of Len.

Chapter 5

Mick spent his days while she read, in an abandoned office block, eating homemade sandwiches and casing the bank over the road through binoculars.

The bag at the bottom of the wardrobe was nearly empty, a fact he kept from Effie. An opportunity was going to have to be made out of necessity, rather than wait for one to conveniently arise.

He'd found a bank on the outskirts of town. Small, basic security, good for practice. All they needed to do was to get in, then out with a few thousand. Nothing technical.

The whole endeavour was insanely boring and way too quiet, giving his mind for the first time in years the opportunity in years to wander.

Len would have loved it and would have been just distracting enough not to detract from the job at hand. They would have jostled for the binoculars, with him conceding at the last possible minute before the game pissed Len off to the point he would go into a sulk and abandon him to a book and retaliate with obscene hand gestures.

Regret bit, like the rats that scurried across the floor by his feet, hunting for the odd crumb. They had done so many stakeouts. Now he wasn't there, they had no time left.

In that moment, he had nothing but time.

It his mind Len disappeared, instead a dark haired man with a silvery scar on his top lip took his place. He could picture him at the window, leaning through the hole where the glass used to be, dressed in grey camouflage and black boots, binoculars to his face, those damn dog tags in his mouth, focused and silent, watching the building in the same way that Mick was watching him.

A feeling of pure helplessness and sadness that he hated more than anything entered his consciousness. Vic would have changed from that mental image and Len wouldn't ever and he could do nothing about it.

Living he could do. Just.

The house was dark when he returned, except for the kitchen light that shone like a beacon. Quietly entering the house, dropping his bag in the hallway, he stalked into the kitchen, aiming for the refrigerator, pausing before opening it to glance at Effie, who had her nose in a thick green text book with dog eared edges.

She glared at him and slammed the book shut, breaking him out of his revere.

"Why am I doing this?"

"Research" He snapped, after a day alone, he wasn't in the mood.

Opening the refrigerator and removing a beer, he glimpsed the title of the book, Renassience Art, one of Lenny's favourites. He leant against the wall, uncapping the bottle with his hand and taking a long drink.

Effie disappeared in his mind; replaced by the rogues, who went about their business, research, cooking, all moving in a blur, only Len in his chair in focus, centre of all the commotion, oozing authority, smirking at him, over that book.

The memory left him full of remorse, disguising his sadness by wiping him mouth on the back of his hand.

"Already had someone I care about die on me." He muttered, hoping that she would misshear.

He spotted a small smile twitch on her face out the corner of his eye as she opened the book again and became intent in reading one of the pages.

After a few weeks, of not really sleeping and living on sandwiches, granola bars and beer, he slammed a physics book on the table as they were eating breakfast, much like the first time.

"Your power comes from the air, you suck up oxygen from the atmosphere. All that oxygen creates a heat reaction. Explains why I keep passing out."

He opened the book and pointed to one of the pages. She read the page and her face lit up.

"The air has molecules, they move when the get hotter. Oxygen ones among them. They can be moved around to create other things." Her voice upped an octave in excitement "What would happen if I moved them?"

She raced outside to the garden in her pyjamas and Mick followed standing the doorway.

Wet grass brushed against her knees as she lowered herself onto a small bench that looked like it had not been used for decades

Still and silent, Effie reached her arms out and took a deep breath, shaking as the veins beneath her skin turned dark blue. The flames appeared and vibrated in the changing air. Her fingers flickered with blue flames and as he watched they dripped from her fingers like a waterfall, landing on the grass and singeing the blades. Raising her hands, the flames went upwards, their power reaching into the sky and swirled around her head.

"Too much Effie" Mick bellowed as he watched the flames curve and twist hypnotically over their heads and feeling the atmosphere tighten around them, and her eyes start to close.

He caught her before the hit the ground.

"Nice try kid"

"Whatever you say Dad."

She smiled at him before she fainted in his arms. He stared at her after the last remark and decided that it was the exhaustion talking. He held her up, felt something that could be identified as pride, then dismissed it just as quickly.

Days pass, in which they spent most of them in the confines of the garage. Planning, melting mannequin extremities in alphabetical order and listening to music in the background, as if they had been living like this for years.

The beginning of a plan taking root in his brain.

One afternoon, Mick returned from observing the bank, clutching a long package wrapped in brown paper. He slammed the front door then marched into the garage to be greeted by flaming fingers and a ferocious glare.

"Eff"

The flames went out, she hit play on the CD player again and carried on.

"What the fuck is this?"

It was a song he didn't recognised. To her credit, Effie didn't stop slinging projectiles at the abrupt nature of the comment.

"Linkin Park"

Mick picked up the top one of a foot tall pile of crystalline cases and turned it over in his hands. Listening intently.

"It's good" he muttered

"No shit it's good."

She slung a fireball and hit the mannequin square in the chest at the exact point when the chorus kicked in for 'What I've Done'

It exploded, melted parts stuck dripping from the ceiling.

Ignoring the plastic that landed on his jacket, Mick slammed the package on the table.

"We're robbing a bank." He announced over the music. "We are hitting it at 6.30 next Tuesday."

"Why next Tuesday?"

"No professional would rob a bank on a Tuesday. Not enough payoff. This is practice."

Mick concentrated on the parcel, opening it with a retractor knife, he pulled out an oxygen tank, with pipes and a mouthpiece.

"Want to be able to breathe, don't I" he continued with a smirk.

Effie pouted for a second, before noticing that he'd pulled a small bag of his jacket pocket and tossed it to her. She caught it and peered inside, pulling out an IPod and a set of headphones.

"Load it with what you like kid." He uttered gruffly as he set the tank down next to the table.

"Stop calling me that." She snapped "We're a team, remember?"

He didn't mean the word like it came out. It was just what he called her. It was her problem if she took offence. He'd always though it a term of endearment.

"You are a kid"

Her hands flared, and flames shot across the room, leaving a burnt trail across the floor and a flaming mannequin that slowly began to melt.

"Control yourself." He spat at the display. "If you can't, you're no use to me." His words harsh.

The flames went out, her face paled, then crumpled.

Taking one last look as him, she ran to her room, he raced after her and found the door slammed in front of his scowling face.

"Was practically raised in a barn. Whats your excuse?" He bellowed

"No one bothered to teach me manners."

He scowled at the yelling from the other side of the door. She was trying to one up him. Two could play at that game.

"Do you know how hard it to parent a kid like you when you don't know what the fuck you're doing"

"What do you mean, a kid like me?

"A human flamethrower."

"I never asked you too."

"You didn't leave. Hell kid, even Len would have had a hard time with you and he had the patience of a saint."

"Who's Len?" She said through tiny gap she had made between the door and the door frame. "You keep talking about him"

"It's a long story"

He sunk to the floor against the opposite wall

"Not if you tell it right" She declared and opened the door a crack

"If I tell you, will you shut up about it?"

The door opened full and Effie sat on the carpet, legs crossed, her hands in her lap, and waited. So intently on getting the story, she' d forgotten to be angry at him.

"This was our place " He said shortly "He was my partner. He died on a job."

"Now, that is way to short" she chided pleasantly "Tell it properly."

Mick groaned loudly in response to the overeager face Effie was pulling

"I saved a dumb kid, who turned out not to be quite so dumb. He was quite clever actually. I did the heavy lifting and he was the brains. He loved those books you're reading, that stupid cold gun, planning to steal the impossible, his baby sister. And me"

The lasting words he whispered. He hadn't talked about this to anyone. He couldn't remember the last time he even tried.

"We were together for a long time. Stole a lot of stuff, had a load of fun, then he decided to play hero and it was all over. And now I'm here with another dumb kid doing pretty much the same thing without my heat gun, except I'm older and have a lifetime worth of shit to deal with."

"Not the best story"

"But, it's what I've got. It you want another one, go read one of Len's books that he keeps under the bed."

"I don't have anything under my bed. Just dust."

Not yours. Mine."

When those words escaped his lips, he could see Len pacing the hall, like he used to do when he was waiting for Mick to figure something out on his own.

"I never had a family to teach me how to have one and I don't want you to end up like me" The words were sighed and resigned. The apparition disappeared. "I have no pictures, just books and memories that all seem to be here"

"Sorry I nearly burnt your house down that time" He words were quiet.

With those words, he couldn't have her out in the world unprotected.

"I have to make a call. Go and practice." He commanded as he got up.

Take care of your own. One of the rules, unless they brought in someone from the outside, which was very rare. Nothing was going to happen to her. He'd felt this kind of feelings before. The urge to be a protector.

The next part of the change of plan was the part he couldn't predict, but he could influence it with a piece of information he recollected from his other life.

He dialled the number on the piece of paper again when she was out of earshot.

"Rathaway.' Mick ground his teeth impatiently.

"Rory"

"I want her wiped from every single database."

"The girl?"

"Her name is Effie"

"That's a big ask. What do I get out of it?"

"I'll keep your secret."

"What secret?."

The kid sounded nervous. How many secrets did he have?

"I know you took cash after a heist six years ago." Mick paused for effect "Before we did the cut" Not even a peep of denial. "Do this one job and I won't spill it to the Rogues."

The fact that he hadn't actually seen any of the rogues other than Lisa, was irrelivent. Rathaway didn't have to know that. The line went quiet for a while, before a small voice spoke.

"How do I contact you?"

Mick grinned to himself. He still had it. He could bluff as well as the rest of them.

"Same place"

Mick turned the phone off, removed the battery and broke the sim card in half.

Removing a bottle of water from the refrigerator and glancing out the window, he noticed Effie practicing fire control in the garden. After months of practice, she no longer fainted, just needed to drink a lot of water.

He felt his heart glow with something that reminded him of his first jewellery heist. A ribbon of anticipation. She was better that any heat gun, but any time he thought to say it, his vocal chords froze up.

Flames were controlled, the intensity constant. Every so often the flame flared as if to the rhythms of the music she was listening to on her headphones. She burnt up leaves one by one as they fell from the trees, arms moving slowly in thick coat sleeves.

He watched for a while, then took the bottle outside, leaving it on the back step to go back into the house. Then his lips curved into a small smile.

She came back inside as darkness fell rose dropping the bottle in the bin and slumped into a chair at the table in the kitchen to watch Mick cooking pasta for dinner.

She rocked back on the rear legs of her chair then back again, landing with a thump.

Mick placed the plates on the table and distributed the pasta, steeling himself to reveal the plan and her contribution. He would not make the same mistake again.

'This bank is practice. In and out."

Effie pouted for a second, but was quiet, letting him continue.

"You walk through the bank, manipulate the oxygen, any people in there won't need it for a while. But do it quickly put them to sleep so no-one can press the alert button.

She smiled at the lack of casualties. No death, like he promised.

"What about you?"

"That is what the tank is for. We walk through, you take the lock out on the vault, just like you do with the candles. We have five minutes to get in and out before the cops turn up."

“Can I burn something?”

Mick shook his head. It was like dealing with himself, before he lost his heat gun.

"Repeat what I said."

"I put the people to sleep, then blow the vault."

She rolled her eyes,

"We take a few thousand cash, nothing else, then walk out the way we came in. No improvising. There will be the managers car out the front of the bank. If we are noticed, take it out. We get to the car and get out"

"Fireball technique. Awesome"

“Have you go that? Repeat"

"I've got it Dad" she smirked as he winced at the name. She seemed to love the reaction, this time it was not the oxygen depravation talking. Mick had no idea how to deal with it. So he ignored the issue and hoped it would go away.

"Eat" Mick growled, pushing her plate toward her, always wanting to get the in last word.

The morning of the planned heist, it snowed. Then the truck never arrived. It came off the road, north of Midway. Black ice, according to the news report. Nothing new in mid November for anyone who's partner hadn't disappeared into a time machine and had consequentially become suspicious of any type of cold weather.

"Ice, why does it have to be fucking ice?" Mick mumble loudly to himself as soon as the news concluded, it made his heart hurt. He turned off the television as Effie walked into the room brandishing a magazine at him. A large pink diamond was on the cover.

"Where did you find that?"

"In a cupboard in the bathroom." Waving her hand dismissively. "Diamonds" She said earnestly, indicating to the magazine again.

"What about them" His absently, as he shuffled to the kitchen, removed eggs from the refrigerator and grabbed a pan

She sighed loudly at his obliviousness, waiting for him to catch up.

"You want to steal diamonds?"

"Why not? They're so pretty."

"Diamonds, have numbers, can be traced, need to be cut and fenced. We'd have to get someone else in." He fell silent and waited

"We're better off on our own"

She said the words like a mantra, mild disappointment cutting through her words.

He nodded towards the cupboard where the plates were kept and glared until she moved to collect the cutlery as well, his glazing over

"No-one else." He muttered.

No-one else was going to die. Only one person to protect would be easier.


	6. Meanwhile.... in STAR Labs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the good guys from stage left.

Meanwhile…..  
The call came into the CCPD at 8.15am, from the softly spoken manager of the First District bank; to report that his vault was open and money was missing.  
He remembered he’d been alone closing up night before with no recollection of anything out of the ordinary apart from feeling a bit warm and weird for a while after he had woken up on the floor. He’d locked up and had gone home, finding out about the robbery that morning when he’d opened up. A few officers investigated the scene but the digital CCTV had been erased. No evidence to prosecute anyone.   
CCPD only discovered another robbery by sheer coincidence, after a journalist from the Citizen started investigating a spike in admissions at the hospital.   
People complaining of dizziness, some were singing, in some cases yelling. Others curled up in a corner, shivering, complaining of numbness in their fingers.   
They were interviewed and it was found that they had all come from a bank.   
Yet another crime scene and the story behind it so simple that it sounded like a joke. Two people walked into a bank, then everyone forgot. As punchlines went though, it needed some work.   
Again, after an investigation, there was only money missing and no fingerprints. That was when the news stations got their hands on it, ramping up all the publicity and probably revelling in the ensuing paranoia that would undoubtedly sell a lot of papers.  
However, this time Cisco managed to retrieve the CCTV, -this bank had back up on the Cloud; he could kiss the security company- and he was standing in the control room at STAR Labs accompanied by various savoury snacks and the music of 21 Pilots at low volume; staring at a still of the perpetrators on the images floating in front of him. He waved his gloved right hand over the floating images in a motion to the right then let the footage play.  
Something wasn't quite right. He noticed two figures in black, stride through the bank lobby where there were queues of people. The smaller ones as female from her gait, young and unnecessarily enthusiastic he thought, followed by a man in scuba gear, face obscured by a hood and a mouthpiece. He was tall, with a long stride and looked like he had muscles on his muscles. He was carrying a duffle bag in one hand like it was nothing.   
As she passed, the customers started collapsing on the floor.  
"Lets see who you are?" Cisco muttered to no one in particular as he put both hands up to pause and sliding both hands outwards to zoom in on the image. Her hands seemed to be covered with something. He pointed to the bottom left of the screen to bring up a keyboard. Anyone walking in would right at that moment would see him typing in thin air as he tapped on the keyboard to open the CCPD database which in turn opened two small images in the top right corner. He linked it to the footage, focusing on the only face he could see.  
Faces cycled through, culminating in the words no match in capital letters flashing across the left of the small images  
Cisco stared at the footage again and slowly rolled the gold band underneath the glove on his left hand with his thumb.  
"Curiouser and curiouser"   
"Is that the second bank job?"  
To his credit, he didn't jump out of his skin like he'd done the first few times Barry had snuck up on him. How could one man be so quiet?  
Cisco slumped in his chair and removed his gloves, tying his hair into a low ponytail with the hair band he took from around his wrist  
"Banks get robbed all the time in this city, however this is no ordinary bank job."  
He swivvled his chair like a Bond villain to face Barry, trying not to cackle like one and accepted a neon pink drink in a see through cup. Nothing like a hit of sugar to kick start the old brain cells.   
Too many questions and not enough answers.  
"Where did they go next?” Barry asked   
Cisco snapped to attention, remembering to put his drink down and turned to the monitor again, pulling on the gloves, tapping the keyboard.  
A very useful algorithm he'd written just for this purpose lined up the timings from each camera, so the images were one long narrative as it followed the perpetrators as they brazenly entered the bank then exited out the front door afterwards  
He fast forwarded the footage to the actual heist.  
The female paced towards the vault and stopped in front of the door. A white flicker appeared above her fingers, it flashed forward and the footage blacked out. Cisco forwarded until the footage came back on line.The girl had disappeared and the door was hanging off its hinges.  
Cisco glanced at the timings. The visual had gone down for two minutes.  
"What went missing this time?" He asked Barry.  
"A few thousand.” The tone was hard to place.  
That was another query Cisco would put away for later. Why such a small amount?  
Cisco turned back to the screen, where the footage was still playing and was now showing where the victims looked as if they were asleep. The girl walked through the room followed by the man in the scuba gear. She was practically skipping beside him as he carried the bag, that looked a lot bigger. They passed all the people and sauntered out the front door.  
The customers were still out cold, how could she do that?.   
He twitched his nose, something bothered him. A clean job, leaving no witnesses.  
Cisco rewound the feed to the beginning, zooming in on the faces of the people as she walked beside them, he rubbed his eyes and looked the the people again. They were gasping, in various degrees. They couldn't breathe. How could she stop people breathing?   
A meta.  
Cisco leapt out of his chair in excitement. They had one like her before, but this one had managed to destroy a door, and take out the security cameras.   
A powerful Meta.  
“Have you tried to find her in the database?"  
Cisco rolled his eyes as the obvious question. What did Barry think he'd been doing?  
"Couldn't find her. She doesn't exist"  
He flapped on the keyboard until he found the street cameras and let the algorithm work to try and locate where they'd gone.  
He bounced on his chair with impatience, eventually finding them in a side ally, the man slipped on what could be ice. Cisco sniggered at the Karma. It was then that he noticed her fingers as she reached down by his ankle. A white flare, then the feed went dark again.   
By the time it had come back, they had gone.  
A very powerful Meta. One that they had to find before she did some serious damage. 

By the third heist, when team Flash arrived about half an hour after the robbery, no one questioned their presence. Barry was well known to deal with weird and if he knew the two people who arrived with him, the officers at the scene would let it slide.   
The bank was the biggest in the city. Tall ceilings, chandeliers and Art Deco mouldings. The type that would sometime in the future get bought out and turned into an expensive wine bar.   
Team Flash arranged their kit in the corner of the main room as soon as they arrived, had come prepared for every eventuality. Cisco with odd pieces of equipment from the lab -Barry swore that part of it was from the vacuum cleaner- and filters to test for air particulates, just in case. Caitlyn talked to the EMT’s, took blood samples and checked heart rates. She stowed the samples in a cool bag, for processing later and headed back to STAR Labs alone.  
His team busy, Barry found Joe taking witness statements at one of the tables. As soon as the witness left the interview, he pulled up a chair.  
“Any progress?" Barry asked before lowering his voice. “It there anyone I can go after yet?”  
"Whoever it was has disappeared, with nothing but cash and the contents of a few safety deposit boxes. Same tactics at the other robberies. I know it’s the same people.”  
"What about the civillians?"  
“They all told us the same story. Gasping for breath then waking up to see a girl walking past with a man with a covered face and seconds later seeing curtain of flame that burned the closest to the door.” Joe pointed to the scorch marks on the carpet with his pen. "No-one was permanently harmed. Any prints were burned away by the heat though. We have nothing to go on apart for the stories of traumatised witnesses. Ones who can't walk in a straight line, we had to put in handcuffs when they got agitated. Anyone who complained of being physically impaired or burnt have gone to hospital to get checked out. Some were running around, like school kids, it took all my professional willpower not to cuff them too.” Joe grinned.  
"This is not normal at this bank." A male voice urged, pleading. A squat beaver faced man in a sleep rumpled suit hovered around the medics as they removed customers on stretchers.   
"Your money is still safe here." He yelled to the people leaving before snapping at the neared officer. "Can't you finish quicker, I have a bank to run and security to fire."  
Barry stepped over to him, tapping him on the shoulder and showing his badge. "Do you remember what happened?”  
"I've been asked this already." His tone incensed "It was 9am, I know that as I had an appointment with a client. The bank had only been open for an hour when I woke up on the floor like everyone else, to a vault door that had been blown up at the lock and no cctv. All I remember when I woke up were two people and an intense heat by the front door then they was gone."  
The manager rushed off to yell at someone else.  
"Be careful Bar."  
"I will Joe"  
"See you later for dinner." He slapped Barry on the shoulder as he walked away.  
Barry ran Cisco and his equipment back to the Lab where they found Caitlyn in the bio lab staring down a microscope, she didn't look up until they were a few feet away.  
"Take a look through the microscope." She indicated with a tilt of her head.  
She moved away and Cisco took her place. He looked through the microscope, peering at the little blobs.  
"I have no idea what I'm looking at"  
“It’s blood”  
Cisco recoiled slightly, then leant forward to look again.  
"There are two slides.” Caitlyn continued.”I'm the control group, the other on is the one of the people in the bank. Look at the difference. It’s darker. The blood is showing oxygen deficiency”  
She swapped out one of the slides, and replaced it with another.   
“This one is even stranger.” Her voice changing pitch in her excitement. Cisco looked again, then got up for Barry to see.  
“This is another sample I took from witness. They have two times the amount of red blood cells. More blood to get to their muscles.”  
“Will they be ok?” Asked Barry, as he got up and started pacing.“Will it wear off?”  
“They will feel super human for a while, but yes, it should.”  
She turned off the microscope.  
“Heaven know what it is still doing to all those people and what the side effect are. There are different reactions for different people. It may kill someone next.”  
"We need to find her, this is dangerous." Barry uttered.  
Cisco rushed over to the computer console and tapped his fingers over the keyboard.  
“If I could patch into the satellite to find changes in oxygen density in the city. I need to come up some sort of filter." His voice drifting as his brain processed the idea. "I'll get you Miss Meta and your scuba clad accomplice too" He said to no-one in particular  
"Aquaman"  
Without turning, he knew who it was.  
"Already been done Barry. I do the names remember. Yours are always just short of perfection "  
"You can't call him the scuba clad accomplice for all time"  
"I'll think of something" Cisco waved his hand dismissively and went back to his algorithm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all my lovely readers. Sorry for the late update. Normal service will now resume.


	7. So the grand plan is ....

"So the grand plan is….?"

Mick and Effie ran up the steps the the house and slammed the door, dropping the scuba kit in the hallway. Their transport, abandoned in a side street in the city.

He couldn't remember how they made it out, only the people in the bank did waking up beside them as they sauntered past, then an intense heat like a wall as they rushed through the door, where his scuba kit became useless as he had to breathe so hard.

Effie must had been practicing a new technique, she'd saved them from getting caught. He'd screwed up. She saved them. The more times he repeated that to himself the more ridiculous and far fetched and embarrassing it sounded.

But those shiny ice white diamonds were laying in an deposit box virtually inviting him to take them. He wasted so much time in the vault that the people were waking up. Why did he take such a risk? They weren't even there for diamonds, no matter how much Effie wanted them. It wasn't part of the plan.

Effie disappeared to her room and the house fell silent. He wouldn't want to be around him either.

Mick sat on the bed and stared at the window where Len would have been. A cool breeze against his cheek even thought the window was closed.

He dropped the bag containing the days takings on the floor and started to open the wardrobe to hide the cash. Jewellery from the deposit boxes, were stuffed in a pillow case ready to be deposited under the kitchen sink until he could figure out what to do with them.

He spread the diamonds out on the bed. It would be hard to fence them, but they were begging to be stolen. He was a criminal after all.

He could see Lenny again, in the window seat, examining his nails if he was waiting for something.

"Haven't forgotten about you Lenny. Been busy."

Five large stones, about the size of marbles. They looked familiar, he turned the stones with his fingers, one was imperfect. A black mark. Why would there be a black mark on something so pure and pristine. Something clicked in his mind. He knew that stone.

He put the stones in their velvet bag and hid it at the bottom of the wardrobe.

He shucked his clothes and got into bed, struggling to sleep, his mind trying to remember what he knew about the diamonds.

Weeks crept by and laying low was getting boring, the only notable achievements being that they had a managed to binge watch all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer- He wouldn't let her near Game of Thrones no matter how much she begged. Arson was one thing, all that sex was quite another- and all of the latest season of CSI.

Effie had perfected her fire waterfall. She told him about the manipulation of the oxygen, lining them up to make a curtain of flame, waving her hands at him. It went straight over his head. On the other end of the spectrum, his most notable achievement was that he'd drunk a lot of beer.

A loud knock echoed around the house.

It was peculiar as no-one had ever knocked on the door before, they just barged in. Then again the only person who knew he was there was Effie.

Mick opened the door, to nothing, just thin air.

He threw a string of curse words at the empty air and slammed the door, seething that he was interrupted.

He stomped into the kitchen, ready to shout at whoever was in there, he'd had a bad day. Sitting at the table, in the spot that Len usually appreciated was Sara, rocking backwards on the chair. How did she get in? He didn't want to ask and get a convoluted reason. He would go for the most simple one. She was an assassin.

"Hey Micky" Her voice ominous and curious at the same time. The extra plates in the sink, two cups, a pile of books on the table.

She kept swinging on the chair. He desperately wanted to tip her off, so that she fell in a heap on the floor, but thought better of it.

"What do you want Sara?" He growled at her "Thought you were travelling around the universe with Rip." He popped the p on the end with distain.

"He sent me."

Mick pulled up a chair and sat on it backwards.

"What made the almighty Rip send you?."

"It hasn't happened yet."

Mick took a deep breath and rubbed his temples. Time travel always gave him a headache. She sat in silence, watching him. Ok, he'd bite.

"What's going to happen?"

"Central City's going to go up in smoke."

"As much as I would love to see that. It won't be me,"

"I know that."

A shadow elongated across the kitchen, Effie blindly staggered in, aiming towards the refrigerator, she swung the door open, removed a bottle of water and shut it again, before taking in the fact that there was someone else in the room that she had never seen before.

She glanced at the blonde woman, as she undid the water and took a long slug from it.

"Dad always makes sure I drink enough water." She uttered blandly, replacing the cap and eyeing the woman's reaction to the comment. Sara's face remained passive. Effie, non plussed about the reaction, took the bottle and left the room.

"Dad?

"She's suspicious. We don't get visitors."

Sara raised an eyebrow, not questioning the family development. She pushed the chemistry and physics books across the table.

"It will be her."

Mick looked perturbed. He knew that the last job had nearly got them arrested and life had gotten a little boring, but he'd tried to train her to keep her cool so to speak.

"No, it won't"

"She gets out of control and destroys Central City."

"Do you know why?"

"Lies"

Her blunt reply shocked him, but he didn't show it.

"I didn't ask for is all his fault." He spat "He's out there somewhere screwing me over."

"Who?"

"Lenny."

Looking at Mick like he'd started having a psychological break, she smiled gently.

"So, you're telling me, that Leonard is messing with the universe."

"He went in to the Oculus, which is as good as a goddamn time machine. Fuck knows where he is and he's pissed at me for not going back for him. He has some sort of plan and I have have no idea what it is." His voice getting more frustrated at each word.

It was all true and it was a fact that made him feel particularly uncomfortable as he always knew the plans. He stopped abruptly realising he was sounding pathetic.

Sara raised an eyebrow, never having heard him voluntarily say so much at the same time.

"You really think that through sheer force of will, he has managed to break the space time barrier and interfere in your life?"

"Would explain our plans" Stubbornness radiating from his words. "Would explain Effie and Vic." He said the last word quietly. The ex soldier was for some reason at the back of his mind as if here were for a reason.

"Are you making friends?" The patronising tone making his fingers twitch as he held himself back instead of doing something stupid. Who said he had no common sense. Well Lenny did, but he wasn't there. "And the books. He would be pleased that you have decided to do something with your life apart from trying to kill yourself."

"How do you know?"

"You didn't think that we would leave you in this time without back up did you? We have been keeping a semi close eye on you for years." she raised a sly eyebrow. "Who's Vic?" She enquired with a distinct lack of subtlety.

"None of your business"

The wrist band on Sara's wrist lit up.

"Crisis averted. I have to go." She rose from the chair. He followed her to the door and waited as she stepped into the street. She abruptly turned to face him. "Maybe he's waiting for you to follow." She stood in the doorway for a moment. "Did you ever want to be someone better?"

"Saving the world got old." Mick grunted dismissively. "Didn't know I had a choice"

"Everyone has a choice." Her voice full of knowing "I miss him too, you know. We all do."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, pressing a bottle of whisky into his hand. He didn't want to know where she'd had it hidden. He didn't want to know either.

"See you around Micky."

He blinked and she disappeared, the only evidence of her being there, was the bottle of 25 year old scotch he had in his hand and the lingering pressure of the kiss on his cheek. No-one had kissed him in a long time.

He shut the door and took a deep breath.

"Ok Lenny, I give. What do you want me to do?" He whispered to the air.

The room went cold for a second, then warmed again.

A noise came from the living room. Talking. Growling to himself, he cursed the brat for leaving the television on and went to turn it off. As he was about to push the button on the remote control, an image popped up on the screen. A state of the art microprocessor was being auctioned on Christmas Eve.

Part of his heat gun.

The gun that he had been forced to take apart and fix over and over, so it was ingrained in his mind.

"So that's the plan, you smug bastard."

The room dropped a few degrees in reply.

Mick raced into his room and wrenched open the wardrobe, removing the velvet bag, pouring the diamonds in this palm. The black mark was a message.

His heat gun.

The ice that stopped the heist for a week, so the diamonds in the right place on the day they hit the vault.

A final heist from beyond the grave. Clever. Not pissed after all.

Of the things he needed, one down, three to go.

Mick turned off the TVs, put the bottle in a really high cupboard and made himself a sandwich, then marched out to the garden where he found Effie, practicing dripping flames from her fingers like candle wax.

"Effie, we have work to do"

"Has the lady gone?"

It was too much of a brain twister to explain the appearance of Sara, so he didn't. He nodded

"Did I do ok?"

"Perfect. Fell for it, no problem." He said absently, watching the flames, then beckoned for her to join him inside.

He grabbed a beer and a coke from the refrigerator and slumped in Len's spot, passing the can to Effie. She popped the can whilst he opened the beer with his hand.

"What's the plan."

"We have to steal something from an auction."

"What?"

"A part of my old weapon is up for sale."

"So the grand plan is to rebuild your dumb heat gun?"

He stared at her, wondering when she had started talking him like that, or if she had always done it.

"That about covers it. Len want's me to. Seems to think that I need it," The last words were grudging.

"We've been practicing." Effie's voice upped an octave "We can do this. We're a team"

"This is bigger than banks." He shook his head. "I get busted, you're on your own. We need help" Mick finished his beer and rose from the chair. "I have to leave for a few days."

"Where are you going?"

"Gotham."


	8. There is something mildly seductive about the idea of committing grand larceny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to Gotham and a family reunion.

Ever since the conversation with Sara the memory of the ex military man had been floating around in his head, talking to the version of Lenny he had in there and it was getting rather noisy. Even so the niggling feeling was there and for some reason, Vic was the only one with the right expertise that he trusted enough to help.

He packed a bag the next morning and left before the sun came up. He figured that Effie would be fine. Anyway she had the 'Legends' keeping watch, even if she didn't know it and he would rather that they didn't. He also remembered the white outlines under the bridge and felt a lot better.

He rented a car from a surly woman behind a counter and hit the sporadically lit grey highway in an inconspicuous black hatchback under the name Rory Calhoun . Rain pounded on the windows, removed by windscreen wipers painfully dragging themselves across the glass, he turned up the radio to drown out the noise.

If he had to hunt through all the dive bars in Gotham, he would. There was only one person he would work with and he would bring his unit and expertise. Mick was was not exactly adverse to seeing him again either to watch the silvery scar on his top lip twitch as he concentrated. Purely professional feelings only.

The living part, he could do. The moving on part was not as straight forward.

It was dangerous going back there, a visit to Gotham meant being the ghost again. He had to be prepared mentally and figuratively. He pulled on long sleeved t-shirt to hide scars, hoodie under a leather jacket, grubby trainers and his favourite shorts. The calf length kahki ones with all the pockets to hide lethal things in.

On arrival, he called Lisa, hoping that she had the same number. Her surprise at hearing his voice an indication of that she thought he was dead, which seemed to be a reoccurring theme in his telephone conversations lately. She was curious and asked to meet her after work when she clocked off at 6.30.

Mick waited for her to leave a non descript grey building and trailed her in the car to a squat white nursery, then to a play park on the outskirts of Gotham. He slouched low in the car on the other side of the park, watching as she yelled out to a little boy who ran straight to the swings as soon as she opened the car door.

He sat up straight when he heard the name. Of course she would name her son after her brother.

The kid looked about three, -not that he was any good with ages- and was already displaying Snart tendencies, that had most of the others in the park wrapped around his little finger. Hopefully, whoever had knocked up his almost sister, was someone who deserved her and not some skinny little criminal.

He put his hand on the door handle to get out, but paused, turned the key in the ignition and drove a way. He left the happy family scene, she didn't need him turning up destroying everything she'd built.

Hours later Mick was alone at a table in a 24 hour diner nursing a chocolate cookie dough ice cream sundae in the biggest and tallest glass dish the diner owned, so far he'd only taken three bites.

Jingle bells played over the speakers, but even that couldn't mask the silence around him. The three people in the diner changed to further away tables as soon as he walked in. Anyone at the bar suddenly found their pie and coffee very interesting.

Mick looked up as the bell on the door jungled and a man in all black walked in and pulled out the chair opposite to violently that it screeched across the linoleum floor. He pulled it up the the table and sat down on it backwards casually leaning over the back

"You came" Mick's voice finally croaked in mild to hide that the sight of Victor made his nerve endings light up like New Year. He had't expected that.

"When I got word that 'the ghost' wanted to meet with me at 3am, in a diner on the highway I ŵas rather intrigued"

Mick shovelled two mouthful of ice cream in quick succession to keep him from talking and in return for his patience got an off putting ice cream headache.

He glanced at Victor, over the glass. Four years had been good to him. Lines on his face had got deeper, a smattering of grey at his temples, but the grey flecks in his green eyes and the quirk of his lips as he grinned, were the same. Mick almost didn't recognise him without fatigues. He undid the black jacket to reveal a black tshirt that strained over wide shoulders. He felt a little under dressed.

"Mick" He finally choked out.

Victor looked at him blankly.

"My name moron."

Victor's scar twitched in amusement, indicating that he'd got the joke, but wanted to see how big a hole his companion for the morning would dig.

The waitress, interrupted the backwards and forwards, by arriving with her coffee pot. She smiled at them then left them to it.

Mick watched over his coffee as Victor plied his with cream and sugar, hoping that he wasn't looking too disgusted. He sipped the coffee with the consistency of tar and winced at the aftertaste of burnt rubber. Vic must have been in this joint before.

The other man grinned then leant over and lifted the spoon out of the ice cream a huge chunk of cookies dough coming out with it. He stuffed the lot in his mouth.

Mick glared in response, but did nothing. Watching Vic's lips quirk upwards into a smirk as he ate the dessert, it didn't occur to him to mind.

"Whats all this about Mick?"

The felon liked the way his new accomplice said his name.

"Len wants me to rebuild my heat gun."

At the mention of another man, the temperature dropped enough to not melt ice cream

"Who is Len?"

"He was my partner. He was mine." Mick bit back, trying not to sound emotional "He died and I swear he is managing to control my life from beyond the grave even though we didn't have anything to bury. Long story."

Victor raised an eyebrow skeptically, then got up to leave making Mick have to reach over the table, nearly knocking over the dish and grapple with his arms until he sat back down. Victor who sat with his arms folded, scowling and seething until he finally got calm enough to ask a question.

"So we're here because your dead..."

He went quiet, as he thought of the most appropriate word the wouldn't make two grown men sound like teenagers.

"Partner" Mick supplied, smirking at Victor's discomfort that he tried unsuccessfully to hide.

"Partner, wanted you to recreate your heat gun?"

"That's about right?"

"You know that sounds crazy."

"You didn't know Len." His voice quite. "If he had a plan, he wouldn't stop until it was done."

"You miss him. I get it."

"No, you don't." he sat retrospective and ate his icecream. "This heat gun is the only thing I have left of him"

Victor paused, his mouth open ready to speak, then closed it again. He thoughtfully sipped his coffee. Mick waited, groaning with impatience.

"You going to help us or not?

"Us?" Victor raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Me and Effie. I'm not that crazy" At those words he pulled his best feral grin, looking completely insane.

Victor shook his head and reached his spoon out, to grab some more of Mick's icecream. Mick smacked the spoon away with his own, but was a little too slow.

"Why do you need help?"

"Few people know I exist, authorities probably think I'm dead. I'd like to keep it that way. If I was found, I would go down for decades." He took a breath and studied Victor's expression. "Effie would be on her own. Couldn't do that to her" he spoke final words gruffly. "She's the kid I never wanted."

Victor studied the creased forehead and pleading eyes of the man who sat opposite him. This ghost was not the same man he knew years ago.

"Ok, what do you want us to do?"

Mick visibly slumped with relief for a second, then back to determination.

"It's not one of your usual jobs"

"A lot had changed in 4 years. We've branched out a little."

There was that smirk again, his top lip quirking. He could keep his secrets, he only needed him for this one job. That was all.

"I need you to break into a few places." Mick garbled around a mouthful of ice cream, knowing that if he spoke properly, he would not be able to make cohesive words. "Lift a few things."

"Is that all?"

"Yes Vic.. Do you think you and your team can handle that?"

He slid a piece of paper across the table, Victor read it slowly, his eyes widening in astonishment by the end. "A small scale thermonuclear reactor?" Then he smiled, slow and thoughtful.

There was obviously something mildly seductive about the idea of committing grand larceny in some of the most secure places in the country. Mick didn't get it personally. He just wanted to destroy things. That was Snart's thing, but it didn't mean that he didn't like to join in with the post heist euphoria.

Victor's grin twitched that scar as he stole some more ice cream and licked the spoon, gazing half lidded at Mick as he did it. Mick caught up in the moment felt a tingle up his spine, then recognised the look and pushed his chair backwards.

"Don't mix business with pleasure" Victor's grin fell at the physical rejection "my last partner died on the job." He continued as an appeasement. "Meet me by the old paint factory in Central City in three days. " He continued gruffly, it was his plan that he fully expected to abandon it at some point.

He grabbed his jacket off the back of the chair as he got up, nodding to his fellow thief and left for the long drive home, feeling strangely emotional. Mick dropped the car back at the rental place and slowly walked home.

The house was too quiet house, so he slammed the front door for effect, like a sulking teenager, trying but unable to process the new developments which was difficult for someone not known for his emotional success. Vic was interested, that much was obvious. Whether is was a one time thing or something longer, he didn't have a clue.

This issue of moving on was another thing entirely. Lenny royally fucked him over in the emotion department.

The shadows were long by the time he ventured into the kitchen. A coffee and cereal beckoned, his stomach grumbling, he couldn't think properly when he was hungry.

"What it this?" He was victim of an irritated tone as soon as he stepped through the door.

Effie was waiting in the kitchen in Len's chair. He had no clue for how long. A brown envelope lay on the table, the contents spread out in front of her.

Shit. He'd forgotten that he'd hidden it under the bed. He have her permission to go there to find books. He blankly stared at her scowling expression. She looked like she'd been holding onto her anger until he got back.

"Weren't supposed to find that." He said, sticking his head in the refrigerator and grabbing some milk before closing it and continuing. "Can I eat before you try and tear me a new one or set me on fire?"

He sat down with most of the contents and made a sandwich, with her watching. He made it take longer than necessary to avoid that was coming next.

"Why are there pictures of me under your bed?"

He remembered Sara's words. About the lies and the fires, so he decided to tell her the truth. He chewed thoughtfully, long enough to compose an answer in his head. He was also a terrible liar.

"I wanted to find out about the girl who invited herself into my house. You have to know about your team. If you can trust them. One of Len's stupid rules"

It wasn't his fault, the ruled were ingrained after decades. It would take a long time and years of psychotherapy to get rid of them.

"Do you always do what Len told you?" She waved another piece of paper at him. "I don't exist anymore." She yelled "You deleted my life. How will my parents find me again. What happens if I die, they will never know." Her rant faded at the last few words.

A new type of guilt hit him and he didn't like it. So caught up in his plan that he didn't realise the consequences. Lisa popped into his mind then disappeared just as quickly. He couldn't put her in danger.

"Did that for your own good. You are so much like me, uncontrollable. Do you know what they do to Meta's? They stick you in a holding tank. We are a good team, which is why I try to keep you safe, where no-one can hurt you."

"Can't decide that for me. I'm not your dumb heat gun Mick, stop treating me like one"

Her hands started to flare.

"You came into my life by accident. If I had a choice..." He yelled

"Everyone has a choice. I thought we were a team."

She slid the chair across the room and got up, leaving the papers on the table. She didn't even look at him as she left the room. He glared after her, no fires, no singed papers. At least he had done something right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘The grand plan’ with a little help from some friends.

Effie's door stayed shut for two days, he knew she was eating as he heard the fridge door opening when he should have been sleeping. It was in the quiet house that he deeply regretted his words.

Choice, a funny word. He lounged on the sofa and sharpened his knife, absently stared at the shining blade.

Len had a choice when he went hero, they had a choice when they went on the Waverider. They had a choice when they went criminal. She had a choice and chose to stick with him.

Choices were what made them who the were. He didn't tell her to leave. He misspoke. If he had a choice, he would take her in all over again.

A day later, he ambled to the salvage yard other side of town and bought a cheap looking jeep. He drove the wheezing vehicle home, getting weird looks from the neighbours and parked up on the driveway.

Later that night, undercover of blackness, he crept that silently grabbing his hold-all and slinging it on his back, he shut the door and buried the key in the plant pot.

"Gotta go for a while Lenny. You know how it is. I'll be back." He muttered, his hand against the doorframe.

He lumbered over the the truck and climbed into the drivers seat. Slinging his bag in the footwell of the passenger seat and heard a grunt in the darkness.

"Team. Remember?"

As if Mick could forget. He snorted and started the engine. They seethed in silence for the whole hour, as they leant against the rusty paint work of the vehicle in the deserted grounds of a factory. Effie shuffled against the door of the truck, as far away from Mick as she could get.

"you might want to sit this one out. I can take you home." He offered.

"Go to hell, Mick"

It wasn't the tone that hurt, it was the name. He frowned in disappointment, turning to face the darkness so she couldn't see what she had done.

They had to wait until cover of darkness, so she pulled up her hood curled into a ball and slept. He watched the landscape and occasionally the small form on the passenger seat, every so often checking his phone.

An alarm beeped the phone in to life and he nudged at the sleeping girl. She grunted at him and they shuffled out of the jeep, avoiding each other's gaze, Effie accepting a torch, but saying nothing.

Far off the grind of an old engine, the noise got closer enough for headlights to slice through the inky black and emblazon them in spotlights.

It was a decrepit looking truck with a canvas roof covering the back. There was a grumble from under the canvas and the contents of the back spilt out. Effie shone her torch in the vicinity of the movement. Three men climbed out, landing with a muted thump on the ground They wore blue and grey camouflage uniform, battered black combat boots, the colours only visible in the torch light. If Effie had been paying attention and had shone the torch on Mick, she may have noticed his minute change in posture as he found Vic in the darkness.

"Vic." He rumbled.

"Mick." he indicated to the the other men with a tilt of his head. "Sully, Wayland and Pike."

They were not the soldiers Mick was expecting, but he didn't show it.

"Introductions when we get out of here." Mick's voice unusually professional, wary of Effie's opinion and the new faces. "Who else is hungry?" Not pausing for opinions he climbed into the drivers seat whilst Victor, Effie and the soldiers piled into the truck without saying a word. He drove in silence, pulling in at a diner on the outskirts.

Mama Jo's, 24hrs, good food, lousy service.

They took a booth at the back and ordered pancakes all round, except for Mick who ordered ice-cream. It all arrived with coffee and milkshake for Effie, who sat on the other side of the booth from Mick, periodically scowling at him from underneath her hood.

He slid her pancakes over to her.

"Eff." He murmured. It was not in his nature to apologise

"I understand. Doesn't mean I trust you." Her words biting, as he watched her demolish her stack of pancakes.

Whilst Effie unintentionally distracted Mick, Victor grabbed a spoon and dug it deep into the ice cream and look a huge bite. Mick ignored the invasion into his personal space, every so often clinking spoons.

They paid and left a large tip, exiting into the darkness, all piling into the truck.

Victor climbed into the drivers seat, leaving Mick to climb into the passenger side and trusting him as to the direction. Mick sat calmly look through the window watching lights flash by in the darkness. The journey to the location was silent. The only two people of the groups who had any working knowledge of each other were Mick and Victor and even they didn't have a word to say in front of the others.

They travelled around the edge of the city, past a decrepit sign for an airport, the decrepit control tower a monument to the previous use. it's runway, cracked and interspersed with grass under the headlights. Victor stopped the truck, and motioned for them all to get out. They climbed out of the truck and looked in the direction of the headlights. In the distance was an imposing building of corrugated iron and brick with skylights like eyes in the ceiling.

The soldiers took one look at their new criminal HQ and started whispering among themselves until Victor snarled at them and they gathered around the truck, watching Sully climb in and starting throwing out dark bundles.

"Who the fuck are these guys? Where are the others?." Mick said, he did not come with a volume control.

Effie's reaction was a complete surprise. In the darkness he could see flames snaking their wavy up her left arm. He liked the fact that whatever mood she was in with him, that she had his back. Mick felt his lips curl into a small smile, that was quickly disguarded as the flames went out.

"You met the rookies. These are my best. My most trusted." Victor grinned with pride " Wayland deals in explosives, Sully is the best tech Gotham side of Keystone. Pike's the medic and the driver."

"They don't look much like soldiers." Mick snorted.

"They're not." He snapped "Don't underestimate Wayland." Victor said in a hushed hone, tilting his head towards the redhead, to get Mick's attention "Took out a gang of gun runners last week with a stun gun and a toothpick"

"And charm. Don't forget charm" southern drawl creeped its way out of his mouth like a snake.

The red headed man grinned and caught a bag that was thrown as him and took lead into the hanger. Shorter than Victor, the youngest of them all at mid 20 with red hair and the kind of face that meant he could fit in anywhere.

They were greeted with a rusted door four men wide and about five high, a padlock and a heavy chain. Wayland removed a pair of industrial cutters from his bag and cut the lock with ceremonial flourish and pulled open the door.

The hanger was vast, engine parts and flying paraphernalia littered the floor. Wide wooden shelves around the edges of the room and a few in the middle segregating the space. On the back wall leant a white board and a long table with mismatched chairs. It looked derelict, like it hadn't been used as an actual hangar for at least a decade. The sharp stench of oil and rust hit his nose. It reminded him of blood.

In the corner, almost hidden was a small kitchen and a refrigerator, that Mick seriously hoped had food on it. Preferably some type of meat.

By the time he had finished pondering the acceptable levels of food he could get away with the rest of the crew had dumped their stuff by the door and had pulled up a chair and were shuffling impatiently in their seats.

He heard a loud cough and turned to find Victor waving a pen at him, with a smirk on his face. Now, he had to concentrate. Mick hated to concentrate unless it had to something to do with fire.

The heat gun. Think of the heat gun and Len.

Resisting the urge to growl, Mick grabbed a pen and wrote down all the bigger parts of the heat gun on the board he could remember, most of it as they had spent most of their downtime on the Waverider learning about the inner workings of the guns and how to do minor repairs.

Diamonds, a microprocessor, a compressor and a small scale thermonuclear reactor.

"One down" Mick crossed out diamond off the board.

"We need to work out where we can find everything. The whole job needs to be fast so no-one catches in to what we're doing." Continued Victor to the silent room.

Victor unrolled a map of Central city across the table and pinned to the whiteboard, then opened his laptop that lay on the table.

"Sully."

A guy with a bleach blonde tipped fauxhawk that showed off flawless olive skin rose from his seat, look long strides around the table and fiddled with with a smart phone for a few seconds, connecting to the internet using a hotspot. He typed at an incredible speed, watched over by Vic who nodded instructions.

He caught Mick's eye, who didn't realise he'd been staring, and grinned. It was unfortunate. Sully looked like he should be on the front of a magazine, until he opened his mouth. Mick turned his attention to fingernails.

Whilst Sully did his job, Wayland slammed several bottles of been on the table. and one can of coke.

He caught Effie glaring at him, his only response was to grin which made her snarl. She took the can anyway and pulled up a chair next to Mick and popped the top.

Sitting opposite Mick was the third member of the Gotham crew. Long brown hair tied back into a ponytail, lean face with a lean body to go with it, feet up on the chair next to him. As Pike turned to face the front of the room, he could see a silvery scar that cut across his neck, almost disguised by a straggly beard. Despite his size, Pike looked like he could snap an arm and was smart enough to know the right break to cause the right amount of pain. Not someone to mess with.

Catching Mick's eye he glared then turned away.

Victor straightened up and sauntered over to the board. Underneath compressor, he wrote, South Side Mafia.

"They own an auto shop, I'm sure they can be persuaded if we send Wayland in." He grinned, one that was returned by the rest of the room. Mick figured that is was a response to the story Vic had told him earlier. He wasn't sure, so did nothing and was sure that Vic looked disappointed, but only for a moment. "The reactor, is held at Mercury Labs." the bounty hunter gathering his response, continued. "The processor is at the Central City auction house.

He put crosses on the map signifying the location of each object.

Sully pulled up a blueprint of each building, Victor knew what he was doing. he'd done enough research to rival Snart, which made Mick feel too guilty to be more impressed. Effie on the other hand had no such reference points and was fixing Victor with side long looks when he could be read as admiration.

They would have to wait and see if he had the patience to case the places for months.

"The first thing is to deal with the time critical element. The processor. The auction is only on one night, we should tackle that first."

Victor unrolled the correct blueprint and grabbed the beer bottle out of Mick's hand and sat it on the edge so the paper roll stayed flat. He opened his mouth to object, but nothing came out.

"My team will case the auction house the day before. I can't tell you the plan. Plausible deniability. And you need to stay hidden"

"My team, my rules" Mick said finally.

"Vic's just thinking of your girl there" Wayland spluttered

"You'll want to include her."

"She is a teenager." Pike snorted snidely. His accent distinctly Australian with a lilt of something else that Mick couldn't quite put his finger on. The words came out slow as if trying to get into Micks thick skull that it was not the best idea. Mick growled.

"What can she do?" He continued "This is dangerous. She could get hurt, we could all end up in jail."

"She's with me. Vic trusts me, that should be enough"

Mick glanced at Victor who shrugged and put his hand in his pocket, pulling out a lighter.

"I don't know either of you" Pike carried on, oblivious to the communication.

Taking heed of the suggestion and the approval, Mick turned to Effie, who pouted at the was the conversation was heading.

"Eff, show 'em what you can do?"

She motioned with her hands to highlight the confined space then nodded at the look he gave her.

"Ok " she uttered, unsure of the consequences if she were to go too far.

She took a deep breath and the air in the room felt thinner. There was no sound, the four other men in the room stared at her fingers. The little flames spreading up her hands then her arms. The men didn't look impressed.

"Fuck it". He snapped "Eff, show them everything. I trust you."

"Fully loaded?"

He looked at the group of men, they were not ready for what Effie could do and it filled him with joy. She actually looked pleased with his suggestion. So much like him.

"Not quite, wouldn't want to kill 'em"

"Especially Victor" Effie hissed

Mick grunted in grudging acknowledgement, even though this would confirm the feelings to Effie that she had probably caught onto already. No one ever got to share his ice cream without actual bodily harm.

She tilted her head to the side, and the temperature around her rose. The flames dripped off her fingers like oil and floated around her like a shield. Red, yellow, blue, then white. She stared at the flames, not noticing the soldiers silence had turned from shock to breathlessness.

"Hurry it up, I'm getting hungry". He scowled and left the hanger. Leaving her to show them what she could really do.

When he returned, Effie was standing in the middle of the room staring at her hands. Soldiers lying at her feet, fingers aflame with purple sparks.

"Effie" Mick's command shook her out of her revere and the flames dissapeared. He flung the garage door open, one by one the soldiers woke up. He helped Victor up to his feet

"Not one without the other"

Those words shocked him as they left his lips. That used to be him and Len.

Victor nodded, as they all pulled themselves off the floor and gathered around the table. A heavy silent acceptance of the situation, settling around the room.

"We need to split up. Two teams. Wayland and Sully, you're with me. We will lift the processor and get back here."

Pike growled just loud enough for Mick to hear. He ignored it.

"Effie and Mick. You are distraction, do what you like. Pike, you are the designated driver, drop them off, then get them out. We meet back here.

Pike huffed at the decision, but said nothing. He would followed the plan. Just like everyone else.

"We don't need him." Effie spluttered, slamming her fist on the table.

"A matter of communication and he needs to stay out of trouble. So do you"

Victor annunciated every sentence until he got to the last one which got softer.

Mick grunted, but conceded to the argument.

"Any issues before we start?"

Issue could mean anything coming from Victor, as it had coming from Snart.

It clicked in Mick's brain. This time, as they had come from Gotham, it could a superhero issue.

"You have the Bat, we have a problem here too."

"Names the Flash. We had a few run ins with him way back, before we..."

"How do we distract him?" Victor's eyes lit up at the prospect of doing something dangerous, just because he could.

"Death is a pretty permanent distraction"

"Mick, you promised me" Snapped Effie.

She returned to her silence.

"What do you know about him that can help?" Victor continued

"He spends a lot of time with the cops" They all stared as if it was not the answer they wanted. "What? Me and Lenny went there a few times to hold up the place. He took a few of our friends to STAR labs, and we wanted to get them back."

Victors eyes narrowed at the mention of Len before his expression altered to one of curiosity.

"Why did he take them there?"

"They were Metas." He used the past tense. How was he to know if most of them were alive or dead.

"He must track them somehow." The new voice was Sully. It was a mixture of Italian and a few others thrown in. "Hunts them"

Mick glanced at Effie, who nodded at him.

"I'll be the distraction" Her quite words nearly lost in the carcophonie of angry voices. "I'll be the destraction" she repeated. "If I can make enough noise. He will race to find me and ignore the rest of you." Effie's voice cut through the silence.

Mick grunted reluctantly in agreement. He eyed Victor, whose eyes crinkled, it made Mick's stomach roll.

"When d'you get so sweet on Vic?"

"Get out of my head, Snart"

Len's voice was the very thing he didn't need at that moment.

"Then who would tell you what you should already know."

He ignored the voice.

"How long do you need?" He asked to drown out anymore talking in his head.

"In and out in 20."

"Not good enough. Flash'll be there a soon as Effie makes a move." The muscles in his jaw twitched as their lack of realisation of her importance to him.

"Smoke bombs." Her voice loud over the conversation. They all looked at her like she was six, but she continued oblivious."What? I learnt about them in chemistry books. Sugar, potassium nitrate and a load of pretty colours. A couple of fireballs and the smoke will distract him. We just need to keep him entertained."

"Flaming body, waterfalls, fireballs. Everything you've got." came the southern drawl tinted with glee.

"You're not going in alone" Victor stated

"Mick can back me up, he can stay out of sight. With Pike."

Her accompanying snigger was evil and from her expression she knew it. Victor raised an eyebrow at the way she spoke to him and the fact that he listened.

"It might work. How many are we talking about?" The drawl again.

"Depends on where we are. A jewellery store on the other side of town?" Suggested Effie

"Too big."

"It has to have something valuable, or he will smell a rat."

"Plenty of diamonds there Eff"

Her face lit up, but ultimately Mick's voice was ignored. He scowled at the lack of response.

"Wayland is our runner. He can check it out tomorrow." Victor contributed.

Wayland smirked aimably and took a slug of beer.

"There's a tight timescale." Victor continued. A job like this has to be finished fast. Out first heist is on Christmas Eve. Everyone get some sleep, we need to make a plan early. Pike, you are on first watch"

Pike pulled a face and grumbled as everyone else made motions to like down and try to get some rest and not think about the job the next day. He glared at Mick who ignored it.

Mick stopped Effie with a hand on her shoulder, forcing her to sit back down

"He will try to get you talk. It's how he slows you down." Effie rolled her eyes belligerently, turning away. He knelt down angling his face close to hers. " Lenny used to have fun with puns, but don't fall for it. Don't say anything." He paused for effect, to see if her has her attention "You distract. That's all. I'll come and get you. Repeat"

I've got it, Heatwave. She spat the last word and shrugged away from him stomping to the back of the hanger, leaving him stunned to say the least.

Mick wasn't sure how long he'd been standing alone when Sully appeared to his left and indicated to Pike with his thumb, speaking even before he was acknowledged.

"He can be a bit intense. You get used to it. Vic dropped everything to help you, including him. I would hate you too."

He grinned then walked away to his pile of blankets in the corner.

Mick caught the sight of Effie in the corner as he crossed the room, she had reached into her pack and was pulling out a pile of material before slipping it over her head. He recognised that hoodie. She hunched up, covering her knees, pulling the hood over her head. Wayland padded over and stood next to her, She glanced up from under her hood in a way that made Mick want to change direction, but the redhead handed her a mug and walked away passing Victor, who was still staring at the board. Mick was glad someone else was doing the thinking instead of him.

He joined Effie in the corner, positioning himself so that she was hidden from the rest of the room.

Just as Mick had let his eyelids drop for what he hoped was the final time in his cocoon of darkness in the corner of the hanger, he heard muted voices.

"Does it hurt?"

Mick recognised the Australian drawl that he found irritating. He was sure that is was not the accent, just the man from whom the words emerged. That man made him tetchy and left him with the urge to break something.

"What?."

He recognised the other one. Effie.

Then he remembered the shadows of the men under the bridge and laid back down dismissing his worries. He would wake up if there was an explosion.

"The fire"

"Feels like my blood is burning. That my veins are going to explode" Her voice inferring intimidation. He liked that.

"Sounds painful."

Then they went quiet.

"Heat gun. It's all for the heat gun" he muttered to himself. He could put up with Pike for that.

He shuffled his jacket that he was using as a pillow and closed his eyes, trying to to think of his heat gun.

He awoke to the hanger door opening and dim light filtering through the crack. It couldn't be much past 5.00.

The redhead crept past in red Lycra and running shoes and went straight to the board to write notes. By the time he'd finished, Victor and his crew had joined him and were whispering around the whiteboard. They flipped it over as soon as they noticed Mick had risen and crossed the hanger.

"Plausable deniability. Can't have your girl get into trouble."

Victor nodded towards Effie. "We'll do our part and you do yours. And when it's over…"

Victor raised his eyebrows expectantly then walked away a leaving Mick wondering, but mostly sure what the other man was insinuating.

"Why was the kid in running kit?" He asked, putting a stop to discussing anything that could remotely be called feelings.

"Do you realise how many runners there are training the same route every morning and how they can go anywhere without looking suspicious? We also have some amateur photographers on our books. Amazing what they can get for us"

Mick furrowed his brow and looked like he was querying his whole career. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. He felt alone when it suddenly dissapeared, as Victor passed, crossing the floor and bending down next to Effie; Mick didn't bristle at the action, he tilted his head in acknowledgement instead as Victor straighten her blanket and then carried on across the hanger to where they stored the food.

Mick eyed his actions suspiciously, not realising he was staring until Victor palmed him a sandwich, with a 'what are you going to do about it smirk' and went back to staring at the board, making odd notes, the pen screeching across the plastic.

Mick chewed thoughtfully at the ham sandwich. That was a Lenny move, he wasn't Lenny. Mick had no clue what to think.


	10. STAR Labs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the good guys.   
> Christmas Eve.   
> Enter the criminals and their grand plan.

It was quiet, too quiet. Criminally speaking.

Cisco was the last one left in the lab, trying to amuse himself whilst waiting for Barry to run him home so he could spend Christmas Eve with the family.

The day for Team Flash had alternated between shopping and drinking a ton of egg nog, which was why his presents were over taped and looked like they were going swimming.

He sung loudly, drowning out to the Christmas song that played in the background stacking the presents in shiny blue paper in pile and waiting for Barry to return from dropping Caitlyn home.

Cisco was staring at bleary eyed at the Christmas tree that was tilting to the side from too many decorations when a shrill alarm suddenly blared, accompanied by a rush of wind.

Meta alarm. Caitlyn raced to the screen as soon as she came through the door.

"Jewellery store on 8th. Go"

Barry raced to the scene arriving just as the perpetrator crunched through the glass he assumed was from the jewellery display cases and shoved things into a black hold-all that looked strangely familiar.

It was the girl, the one on the footage. She was smaller close up.

There was nothing hiding her face, she had the swagger of someone who knew she was a lethal weapon and her face barely concealing a mark of confidence.

She grinned at him and elaborately winked, flaring her arms at the same time, making a loud whooshing sound.

"Who are you?"

She didn't speak, unlike the usual meta who would get too cocky, who wouldn't shut up, and would explain their wicked little plans.

She waved the hold-all high in the air.

Suddenly, the front window broke and an object flew inside the room, plumes of thick purple smoke snaking from it. Then it exploded, taking out the rest of the windows. Barry rolled for cover under an undamaged display case.

When the smoke cleared she was gone.

He rolled from under the display case and heard loud rhythmic banging. Heaving himself to his feet he noticed a door at the back of the store.

"Stand back" Barry yelled over the noise.

He held onto the handle and vibrated his hand to jiggle the cylinders in the mechanism. The lock made a satisfying noise, he opened it to find an irate woman in a suit and several dazed people sitting at the back of an office, full of screens. They could see exactly what was happening and could do nothing about it.

The CCPD arrived minutes later, gas masks, guns cocked, ready to fire. He sped past the officers, avoiding a camera crew from the local news.

"Turn on the news" Barry yelled as he slid to a stop back at Star Labs.

Cisco turned and grabbed the remote control to turn on the widescreen tv that took up half the back wall. The news showed CCTV footage of a girl with flaming arms walking into a jewellery store, using her power she forced the people in the store to the back of the store out of sight. She reappeared alone, flamed now dripping from her fingers onto the carpet whilst she smiled at the camera. Sauntering over to the glass counter, she lay both palms flat on the glass display cases. The footage blacked out like every other time.

"That was when I got there. There was a lot of smoke. Then she escaped.

"what about all the people?"

" They were locked in the back office and didn't look too pleased about it."

"That's unusual" Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. " No deaths, not even a casualty"

"Where did she go?

Cisco was already pulling on his gloves and had his hologramatical keyboard out to hack the security feed outside Jewellery store.

The newscaster says that they are looking for the girl.

"I'm sure that's same girl that pulled the bank heists a few months ago. Similar M.O. More taken, but no casualties.

"Something isn't right. She is alone, no scuba guy.

"Maybe they had a fight. Can you find her again?"

Cisco put on his gloves, a screen appearing in the air, he waved his hands to make a keyboard and flexed his fingers before doing what he did best. After locating the footage of the event, images floating infront of him, Barry and Caitlyn.

He switched to the exterior cameras and noticed her rushing out of the building, and up to a non descript dark car that was probably still running at the side of the road. The car door abruptly swung open and the girl was pulled inside, the door slamming behind her.

Cisco rolled his eyes and waved his hands slowly. Within a few seconds of theatrical tapping his in the air, 8 images floated in front of them of various angles of the front door and on the other side of the road. Team Flash stared at the images.

"They need to upgrade their security, I can't see anything" he whinged.

"There."

Caitlin's voice took him by surprise.

"Bottom left. In the wing mirror."

He zoomed in and paused, confused.

Cisco zoomed in on the image. A pixellated figure. Stocky build, face mostly hidden under a hood pulled up over his face.

"What are you waiting for?" Said Barry, finally speaking "Can you zoom in any more? Can you see who it is?

Cisco enhanced the image and it pixellated even more.

"If we were looking for a NES character..." Then he waved his fingers about like he was conducting an orchestra and without speaking, he opened up the keyboard and tapped at it. "I have just the thing."

The picture washed with purple, then the image focussed. The image looked more like a person."

"Now what?" Uttered Caitlyn

"CCPD have facial recognition software." Muttered Barry

"Good thinking Batman."

After a few more taps, the software kicked in. It took a few minutes to fun through the whole database and Cisco was so happy he worked with all the tech in STAR labs.

"Nada. this stuff gets tampered with all the time. Hackers can break through firewalls."

"Isn't that what you do"

"Legally" Cisco said, rolling his eyes.

"What about our files?

"Ran that at the same time."

It beeped loudly. Nothing.

Team Flash peered at the screen, and recognised the face at exactly the same time. Mouths open in astonishment.

"I thought he was dead." Barry broke the silence.

The temperature in the room felt like it had dropped a few degrees. Ironic really.

They all slumped in chairs at the same time.

"Obviously not" Caitlin paled

"What is he doing here? Thought he was time travelling with Captain Cold." Cisco's expression resolved.

He twisted around, narrowly missing a paper cup full of something fizzy and no doubt sticky and knocked a hand drawn child's drawing of Team Flash off the desk with his elbow. He bent down in the darkness under the desk to retrieve it.

The TV blared in the background. In their excitement, they'd ignored it. A breaking news banner appeared on the bottom of the screen. The auction house had been a victim of a break in. Nothing was stolen apart from a microprocessor that was due to be auctioned that evening. The investigation is ongoing, the suspects are unknown to the Police. If you have any further information contact the CCPD.

"Time travel is messy. I speak from experience." Barry's voice breaking the dismay.

"Has anything burnt down lately?" Cisco muttered

"Do you think he's connected to the girl?"

"Maybe he's taken her on as his progeny"

Cisco was sure that the off hand words were supposed to Barry's idea of a joke, but his mind ran with it.

"Prodigy?" He looked up from his scrabbling, then ducked below the table agin, humming the tune to Firestarter

"She has the swagger of someone who knows she's a lethal weapon.'

"I wonder where she go that from?"

" Fire..."

The rest of the word lost as Cisco cracked his head on the table, making it vibrate.

"Firestarter. Twisted Firestarter."

"Not one of your best"

"Short notice." He found the picture and placed it out of range on a shelf, smiling at it gently.

"Heatwave and Firestarter. We're in trouble."

Three days later an alarm sounded. Cisco was glad that the criminals also seemed to celebrate Christmas, but what sane criminal would be out at 5am.

Everyone looked around the room so see whose ring tone it was.

"I think that that's the Meta alarm." Yelled Caitlin, covering her ears.

"Is that Firestarter by The Prodigy." Barry groaned

Cisco returned the grimace with a grin as the gathered around the main lab console.

"I provide the pop culture references and you fight the bad guys."

"Down by the river, the warehouses. One of my those start up tech companies. Go." Urged Caitlyn from behind the desk.

Barry sped out of the room into the grey morning light, screeching to a halt just as the door of the warehouse exploded outwards. Metal splinters flying through the air, missing a human shaped fire.

"Flame on" a voice, full of awe came down the com.

The fire went out, revealing the same girl from the other robbery, who looked around like she has lost something.

He watched the girl rush across the burnt grass spotted slabs and stop dead at a man lying on the ground. Not a usual occurrence during a robbery, the sight left him intriegued.


	11. Distraction number 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mick doing his parental thing

There was a yell as soon as Mick hit the wall, but all he could hear was ringing.   
Stupid, he had been too close when she blew the door. Rookie mistake. Stupid Victor, putting him off his game. He shouldn’t think about the other job when he had one to do himself.  
They'd been doing this long enough to know the safe distance. They'd gone through the plan a dozen times. He had no idea how long he'd been lying there, but when he awoke it was to a strong sense of dejavu.  
Prying open his eyes slowly, a blurry shape stood over him. The blob came into focus, it was red and as the features came into focus, he found that the Flash was looking quizzically at him.   
Of course Flash was still around. Pulling his good guy bullshit with his team, talking down hardworking criminals.  
His world felt like he was in an earthquake. He was being shaken.   
"Dad"  
Something was clutched tightly around his chest making it hard to breathe. He sat up.  
"Dad"   
This time more frantic.  
Effie. She was calling for him, he smiled on the inside.  
"I'm sorry" she cried "It was my fault"  
"Effie" He growled, as he patted her all over, checking for any injury. She pulled away.  
"I'm fine. I hit the door too early."  
The Flash finally moved from his statue like position.  
"She was calling for you. Calling you Dad."  
"And?"  
"She's a meta isn't she."  
"What's it to you?"  
"I'm just concerned."  
"Be concerned someplace else."  
Mick rose from the floor. He gathered the girl in his arms and squeezed her tightly.  
"I would say I told you so, Effie, but you know that already. We have some work to do"  
"I wasn't concentrating. The flames were so pretty."  
"That's my girl" he growled  
"Plan B?"  
"Plan B"  
She flared her hands and bent forwards, her arms pushing the flames towards the overhead powerlines, they sparked and exploded, waving about in mid air, close to the propane tanks that had not been hit by her first explosion.  
"Better save everyone Flash."  
Effie produced a flame curtain, he could see Flash looking confused as it closed. It was a superior feeling.  
They turned tail and ran towards the road. Wrenching open the doors of a waiting car, they clambered into the back seat and slammed the door.  
"Seat belts" snapped the Pike from his position in the driving seat. He revved the engine and drove off, eventually getting to the city and entering traffic.  
"Can't you speed up?” muttered Effie in an agitated tone.  
They joined a line of traffic at a set of traffic lights. Pike turned from his position to glare at her.  
“I have two criminals on my back seat and a load of unexploded smoke bombs in the trunk. I'm not getting pulled over.”  
He concentrated on the lights again, pulling off when the light turned green.  
They pulled up with a screeching halt outside the hanger. Pike turned off the engine without saying a word and climbed out of the drivers side. He marched towards the building, leaving his passengers puzzled.   
"He doesn't like us much" muttered Effie, stating the obvious.  
Mick moved to get out of the car when he felt a tug on his sleeve. He paused, only to find Effie grabbing him around the waist and hugging him like a boa constrictor  
I’m sorry” she murmured as he tried to move to get more comfortable “Don’t die on me. Ok?” She looked up had him expectantly, waiting for an answer.  
“Sure kid, I’ll try not to die on you.” He laughed at her frown  
The door opened and Pike stuck his head through the gap.  
“I’m not waiting out here all day.”  
He stomped away, leaving the door open.  
Following Pike back to the hanger, they made themselves comfortable. Effie put on her headphones and curled up in his hoodie. Mick made himself a sandwich and plonked himself down next to her, ripping his sandwich down the middle and presenting him with half.  
It was getting brighter through the window. Morning was coming.  
Pike kept checking his watch, striding up and down the hanger, glancing at the door  
"Quit pacing, your'e making me nervous" Mick yelled from his position. "They’re only 20 minutes over." He rally wanted to knock him out cold, so the repetitive motions would stop.  
The door smashed against the door frame with force. In the door came Sully and Wayland and in between them buckled at the knees was Victor.


	12. Nothing left to loose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath and time to move on

He closed his eyes and for a second saw Len barking out orders as to his care or yelling at them to be quicker. Victor however was silent, breathing shallow, body limp. He raced forward, pushing all the detritus of the table with his arm to free the space. They dropped Victor on the table.  
"This was not the plan" Sully muttered. Mick wanted to punch him, but held back. Stating the obvious did not help their situation.  
Victor moaned, more blood blooming from a wound in his abdomen and pooling on the table. A patch of dark bloomed on his trouser leg where they covered his thigh.  
"Stabbed in leg" was all Wayland could breathlessly say. "The other one is bad. That one won't stop."   
There was panic in his voice as he indicated to the other wound. He shouldn't be panicking, it wouldn’t help. Mick wanted to punch him too.   
He turned to Pike to try and get some sense of action from the medic, just as Victor started seizing. Sully and Wayland held down his arms and legs as Pike gathered the tools of his trade. He shoved Mick aside without even a glance.  
Get me that lamp."  
Mick grabbed the lamp and dragged across the floor of the hanger, placing it so the beam shone directly over the patient.  
"Must have hit the renal artery. Rapid blood loss. We have to stop the bleeding."  
Pike looked around the room for something to staunch the bleeding. He pulled off his shirt and started ripping it into strips to hold over the wound.  
Something twitched in Mick's brain. He'd seen this before, mostly in iron heights and on a late night medical programme.  
Mick ripped open Victors shirt. The tattoos catching his attention. A full sleeve on his left arm, they warped over what looked like a long thin scar that curved around his throat and went from his shoulder across his chest, the tattoo kept going, stoping at a monochrome skull over his pectorals. Mick glanced at his face and saw that his eyes had rolled backwards into his head and was taking ragged breaths. His heart shocked him into action.  
"Effie, get over here. I need you to stop the bleeding."  
Effie hurried from her sulking position in the corner of the room. The two men pinning down the unconscious Victor eyed him suspiciously. He ignored them.  
"Everyone get back and take a deeper breath." She ordered. "Then blow out slowly when I tell you”  
Pike's eyes narrowed, he looked furious, but underneath petrified over what she was going to do, but he like the others followed her instructions and took a deep breath.  
“Now” she commanded.  
Effie flamed her hands, making them heat to white.  
“What is she going to do. She'll kill him.”  
Pike grabbed onto Effie and pulled her back, away from the table, Mick took us chance and gave him a solid right hook to the face, possibly braking something, he wasn't sure and didn't care. Fuck, that felt good.  
Pikes attempt as aggression was laughable!   
Mick barked out a sharp “ha” and glanced over at the prone figure on the floor.  
"He'll bleed to death if she don't do something. She's cauterising the wound" He gabbled to the men holding Victor.  
She placed her hands on the wound and took a deep breath, blowing out.  
"You're frowning"   
"I'm concentrating Dad. He's not a bank vault." She would have rolled her eyes if she had not been gazing intently at the body in front of her. "Do you want Vic to die?"   
He could smell burning flesh, but he did nothing for her to stop. Victor jolted, almost knocking her off balance.  
After what felt like hours, she moved her hands away, the wound had stopped bleeding.  
Pike had returned to the land of the conscious and was holding a piece of his shirt to his nose. Mick knew Pike would be saving the lecture until he’d finished up and he would which he’d hit him harder.  
Mick watched as Pike sewed Victor up. This was different, careful, would only leave a minor scar. It was like Pike was sewing together fine material.  
He had plenty of ugly scars from messy stitch jobs, so many that he looked like a patchwork blanket. They were rushed whilst trying to escape. None of the rogues were trained. Len had loved trying to remember where they all came from. All the burns and puckered bullet wounds. He would touch him like he was precious, one of a kind.  
It was no wonder that Pike hated him.   
As soon as Pike finished, he shuffled over to Vic who was still still out cold, he reached out and he traced the tattoo gingerly with his fingers, feeling warm skin of someone alive, not just a memory, heart beating faster. His fingers finally finding the dog tags, gently turning them over.  
Makensie Victor Lawrence.   
His name.   
Then another. Matisse Tyrone Dieigo.  
Another man’s name pressed against his skin.  
Dropping them as if they burnt, He shivered, then turned away to get some air and heard Victor groan.   
Turning back towards the table, guilt bit and he hoped Vic hadn’t been awake the whole time.  
"Thank you" The words came from the mans lips, dry and slow  
"Took you a while Vic. Lenny would have been yelling at us by now"  
As you have probably figured out by now, I'm not him"  
Victor sat up, wincing .   
The white bandages wrapped around his torso, stark against his skin.  
"Who knew that scientists could be so possessive over a such a small reactor" He grinned, then winced again. There was a crafty bastard hidden under the table with something sharp. Got of a lucky swipe, when I was picking you up something extra.”  
Mick cautiously stepped closer  
"You saved my life"  
"Sure you're not hallucinating. He has you doped up of some heavy duty pain meds.”  
Victor looked around theatrically.  
"No giant pink elephants here" he whispered loudly.  
Mick glanced at the dog tags where they swung around his neck, refusing to look Victor in the eye.  
Life he could deal with, moving on was different.  
"Technically, it was Effie" He said, breaking the palpable tension.  
"You had the idea."  
"Who told you?”  
"Pike"  
Mick raised an eyebrow in surprise. He almost regretted hitting him, but not quite.  
"Today is our last job. South Side Mafia owe Wayland a debt and my cousin wants his hanger back."  
Victors mouth spoke those words, but his eyes something different. Give me a reason to stay.  
"Don't mix business with pleasure, my last partner died on the job."  
Mick's mantra was coming back to haunt him. Any time he could be happy, out came those words, He couldn't stop himself.  
At those words, Victors face darkened   
"Sick of those words now Mick." He spat "I don't pull jobs like this and nearly get myself killed for just anyone.”  
At those resting words, Mick didn't know what to think, he turned and bolted for the door.

He went back the next day and sat in the van, staring at the building, engine running not wanting to know one way or another whether he was there or not.  
"You could have asked him to stay"  
Mick turned to the passenger seat. It was the first time Lenny had appeared somewhere other than the house. Maybe all the pining has screwed with his brain. He was a poster boy for bad TV reception  
"I thought you'd mind”  
"I'm dead, Mick" he drawled, his voice precise and beautiful. "why would I mind?"  
Len faded in front of his eyes, then he put the car in reverse and drove back to the safe house, spotting a black SUV in the driveway.  
He opened the door, expecting Effie to be making a noise, but there was silence. He shuffled into the kitchen to find something to eat. On the table was a large black hold-all and at the table in Lenny's spot, sat Victor, holding a bottle of whiskey that he periodically drank out of.  
He motioned to Mick to sit down and pushed the bag towards him.  
“This is everything." He said, then paused. "Is there anything else?"   
He paused as it waiting for Mick to declare his undying love or something. It was his last chance to say something and he found that even though he didn’t to use the same excuse any more, he couldn’t say it.  
“Who was Tyrone?”  
Victor slowly pulled the dog tags out from under his T-shirt.   
“We joined enlisted together when we were 18. He was my best friend.” He trailed his fingers over the other tag. “We were out on a re-con mission. He was taken out by a sniper.” Victor’s face crumpled. “I was ordered not to save him as it was too dangerous.” He lowered his voice sadly. “He died alone because I didn’t save him.”  
I’ve regretted following that order ever since. I served my commission, then got the fuck out of there.”  
His baggage sounded so familiar. Life he could deal with, moving on maybe.   
He chose his next words carefully.  
“Len sacrificed himself. He hit me with something. When I woke up, he was dead.”  
More silence  
In his head he desperately wanted to ask Victor to stay. His heart pulled in different directions. Len’s memory.  
They sat in silence. Victor shook his head sadly, and slid a folded piece of paper across the table.  
"Call me when it's over. If you want to”   
Victor rose from his seat and left the room. Mick remained in his seat until he heard the door slam and an engine start.  
He got up and opened the bag. Everything was there. He would be able to make his heat gun again. He has expected to feel excitement, but all he felt was hollow.   
He closed the bag, and looked opened the slip of paper. It had a number on it. Vic. Fuck.  
He stared at the number until it was blurry under his gaze.  
"Did I see Vic leave?" Effie, said from the doorway, she paused and observed his position at the table. "what gives?"   
Mick looked up at her crumpling the piece of paper and stuffing it in the pocket of his coat. He glared at her. She took the expression under advisement then ignored him.  
"You let him eat your ice cream, then he leaves and you look like someone has taken your lighter away."  
Mick growled and turned away. He wandered into the kitchen to get a beer out of the refrigerator. Len was in his customary seat. Pointing his spoon.  
"I can't" he sneered at the memory " I have to finish what we started."  
"might as well Mick, you have nothing left to loose." Len's voice drawled quietly in his head.  
He grabbed the bag and Effie by the arm.  
"Do you remember I told you about the guy who made my gun? We have to find him. Vic would want me to finish the job.  
"Don't you mean Len?"  
Mick ignored the inadvertent slip of the tongue.  
"When we have created your dumb heat gun. What next?"  
"We set fire to a few buildings, steal a few things." His voice drifted.   
"Then what?"  
"I don't know"  
it was later that he realised that he meant it. He had no clue


	13. STAR Labs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cottoning onto the plan, from the perspective of the good guys.

Team Flash arrived the next morning to Cisco, in his customary chair, surrounded by coffee mugs. He rubbed his eyes, and ran his fingers through his hair as they approached.

"Have you been here all night?" Barry's face creased in concern

"Really early this morning. I've been trawling through footage from the auction house and the other break in yesterday"

"There was another break in yesterday?"

"Didn't your spider senses tingle?"

"Why didn't you call?"

"You were out with Iris. Don't worry, I've got this"

He turned back to the screen in front of him. The others stood by each shoulder.

"There was a break in at Mercury Labs whist you were Meta hunting yesterday"

"I saw him. Heatwave. She called him Dad."

Cisco stared at the screen, unsure of how to deal with that information.

"Annnnd dismissing the scary though of Heatwave reproducing. We have more important things to look at"

"Do you know what went missing? Caitlyn asked.

"Not yet, even the classified is classified. I'm working on it."

He zoomed on a piece of footage from the auction heist showing the thieves. There were three of them. All wearing black, faces covered with balaclavas. He switched to the images from the previous night lining up footage of the thieves again and placed them next to each other.

Who were they? He'd been asking that question a lot lately.

They stood analysing the images. Cisco twisting his gold band with his thumb.

"Signals" he blurted out. Barry and Caitlin looked over. "Notice the hand signals. Only one person in charge, following orders. Organised. No deviation"

"Military."

"Or ex"

"Professionals. They'll vanish before we can find them." Cisco's shoulders dropped in dismay.

"Let's go for another angle. What are they stealing?". Caitlin put forward, as always the voice of reason.

A little screen on Cisco's right made a noise. He turned and tapped at what looked like thin air. Lines of code took over the screen, eventually turning into a home screen for a computer terminal. Mercury Labs.

"You could have just asked Joe"

Without answering, Cisco entered folders, then changed to others, coming to the document on insurance, he opened it and a picture of a small thermonuclear reactor filled the screen.

The blood drained from his face.

He pushed the data hurriedly to one side and started tapping on the keyboard at lightening speed.

"What are you looking for?"

"The insurance list for robberies Heatwave and Firestarter were involved in last year." He tapped faster, his eyes frantically scanning the screen. "Please no" Cisco muttered to himself. "No no no no."

He stared at the list, rubbing his eyes.

What are you looking for" Barry enquiried, concern on his face at why his friend was acting so erratically.

"Diamonds" he finally spoke " if they have the diamonds, then they all they have to find is the compressor."

He scanned the list. Diamonds. Large diamonds, the size of marbles. They were missing

He sat in silence.

"What is it"

"A team play. Very clever." He glanced at Barry and Caitlin in surprise that they hadn't figured it out yet. "The heat gun." He annunciated slowly. "They are trying to remake the heat gun" he said quietly in disbelief. "Next, they will come for me"

Barry slumped in his customary regret pose.

"I was distracted. It's all my fault"

"We can't do anything about that now." Caitlin snapped. "Cisco is in danger."

"I'll run you home and stay with you"

Cisco fiddled with the band again, and turned resolutely from his position, pulling off his gloves.

"Not home. My family is there. It's not safe."

"They won't come here." Barry pondered, pacing the room "The week day apartment" He paused, grabbing Cisco gently by his shoulders" Walk there. Let them come to you and we'll catch them.

"So, I'm the bait" He sighed melodramatically. "Again"


	14. Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Firestarter." Cisco said in awe "Though you'd be taller."  
> He couldn't help himself.  
> "I got bored." She stared as if it explained everything "What's taking so long?" She looked Cisco up and down. "This the guy who made the heat gun?"

Mick and Effie were one step ahead having already followed Cisco home the night Victor had left, curb crawling him in a clapped out heap that had once been called a truck. It's decrepit signage advertising gardening services on the side and wafted the smell of dead grass in it's wake.

They'd waited until that evening to return with the bag of parts and were at that moment, making themselves at home inside his apartment having picked the locks and melted the security system.

Effie was raiding the contents of the fridge -that was full of rubbish even by Mick's standards - to make a sandwich. The bag with all the gear sat in the middle of the kitchen table, ignored for the moment, but not forgotten.

"Why isn't he back yet? I'm getting bored" Effie'e tone was starting to irritate him, as she walked absently around the apartment with her stolen sandwich.

Patience isn't your virtue" He yelled after her, smarting from her lack of consideration in the food department.

"Isn't yours either"

"True" he muttered, following her into the living room. "If you're bored. Go sit in the truck" He ordered.

She stuffed the rest of the sandwich into her mouth then shuffled out of the apartment, fingers flickering in annoyance.

Mick pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at it. The numbers changed.

"He'll be back soon." He yelled over the slam of the door.

It was a regular apartment, a modern show home, a week day place. Nothing more interesting than a pot plant and a few books that Effie had pulled off the shelves to read the back cover and left on a coffee table.

As Effie left, Mick noticed the photographs.

They were everywhere. He grabbed one of a family and sat on a leather sofa in the corner of the room and stared at it.

The photograph threw him enough for him not to move. He recognised Lisa and the kid from the park. The man in the picture was, if he remembered his name correctly Cisco Ramon. An ill advised fascination years ago for Lisa that seemed to have had a development.

He and Lisa were standing close together, his arm around her shoulders, the kid between them. A family. Matching grins and wedding rings.

He could see the Ramon resemblance if he squinted, but at face value the kid was all Snart. Lisa and the scientist. He snarled in disgust under his breath.

Something in his head clicked, he didn't have photographs. Of anyone. Shaking off the off the regret, he focused on the faces.

He sat in silence, until the door opened and suddenly the scientist was in front of him, eyeing him like he wasn't surprised to see Mick Rory sitting on the edge of his sofa; though expression his flickered slightly, when he noticed what he was holding.

"Heard you were looking for me"

"She still in school?" was all Mick could summon up to say.

"part time cop. She skipped a couple of years, wonder why that was?" The words held venom.

Mick rose to his feet to face the scientist. They stood toe to toe, Mick glaring down at him, The scientist glaring right back. Ramon seemed to have grown a pair in the past 7 years.

The sound of a loud thud, then a whoosh of an ignition made them step apart.

"Thought you were going to stay in the truck Eff." Mick growled, turning to face the intruder.

The girl standing in the doorway flared again. flames listing up bare arms and dripping off her fingers like blood onto the carpet leaving charred embers.

"I'm improvising" she snapped

"There goes my security deposit"

She tilted her head like an eagle eyeing it's prey. Cisco realised not was not the time to be flippant at that he should keep his mouth shut.

"Firestarter." Cisco said in awe "Though you'd be taller."

He couldn't help himself.

"I got bored." She stared as if it explained everything "What's taking so long?" She looked Cisco up and down. "This the guy who made the heat gun?"

Mick grunted at the question.

"This was supposed to be quick. Heatwave" She hissed, half warning, half coaxing. "We have to go. We'll get him later."

The latter words aimed at Cisco.

"Mick." She hissed again.

He didn't move

"Dad." Her. Once louder than she intended "You're drifting"

That got his attention. Her flames went out and she pushed him towards the door, fully aware that he really wanted to stay.

"What was that, little girl?" He turned sharply to face her, words quiet and dangerous.

The words to show who was in charge, but they didn't effect her anymore.

"You were drifting. That's not you."

Mick knew she was right. What had just happened had changed everything. He sighed loudly. He was tired. Tired of running, tired of planning, he wanted to be someone else.

Being a criminal had got old.

She blinked slowly at him, waiting for him to speak. He was still holding the photograph.

"I don't have any to these." He waved the frame at her. "Only what's in my head. Now he's dead. I wish I did."

"If I take a photo of you, will you both get out of my apartment?" offered Cisco.

The offer was ignored.

"Make the plan, execute the plan." Len's voice taking over "Expect the plan to go off the rails."

"You died, you inconsiderate shit" Mick yelled at the voice in his head. "Course the plan went of the fucking rails"

"Throw away the plan. Make a new one".

The voice was insistent. This was his choice now. Lenny was right.

"The world owes you shit Mick. Take what you desire most." Lenny's voice cut through the haze of static that had taken over his mind. "It's what criminals do."

"Ok..." He whispered in confirmation to the voice in his head. "I quit"

"You can't quit" spluttered Effie, her face pale.

"Why not? I want that family. I want to be in the place where I can get a decent nights sleep. I want to live in a house with memories."

"What will happen to me?"

"Not going anywhere brat." He tried to grin, but it got mangled in translation and looked like a grimace. Effie snickered at the face, then grinned.

"In that case, I quit too"

They both stood, unsure of what do to or say next. Even Cisco said nothing.

"What now?" Effie uttered apprehensively.

"We live in Len's fucked up universe. Screw you Snart." He shouted at the ceiling.

He could picture his partner next to him, that insufferable 'I've got what I wanted, so what are you going to do about it" look on his face.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family reunion, sort of.

A week later, there was a knock of the door, Mick opened it to find Lisa and a four year old boy on the doorstep.  
"How did you find me?”  
Lisa tapped the side of her head. Her wedding ring glinting in the sun. Gold, of course it was.  
"Snart, remember? Also married to a genius, but don't tell him that I said that."  
She chucked lightly and glanced down at the boy, who was looking a little more like a Ramon, but not much.  
"Leo, this is your uncle Mick."  
The little boy looked up with bright blue eyes and eyed the man dubiously, taking in the imposing figure and most likely his motivations, and possible reactions, then rushed forward to hug his leg.  
"Gerroff me kid"  
"Leo, please unattach yourself. Can you give Mick his present."  
Leo let go and ran to his mother, who gave him a flat A4 sized parcel wrapped with shiny blue paper. He passed it to the man with a huge grin. Mick opened it in the the watchful eye of a Snart and a half Snart, being careful not to rip the paper.  
He almost made a noise as the paper came off and he saw the picture. The picture he saw in Cisco's apartment, the one with the family, but standing next to them, photoshopped in, like they were supposed to be in the picture in the first place, were Mick and Len and Effie. He stood in stunned silence.  
"Is the door open, it's freaking freezing in here."  
"Eff, we have company"  
Effie screeched to a halt at the front door. Greeting her was the woman and a boy from the family photograph.  
"Eff, this is Lisa."  
"My name is Effie. " she pushed past Mick, to get the the door. "Have heard a lot about you."  
"Likewise"  
Effie glanced at the photo. Scanning, it she found her face. Seeing her confusion, Leo stepped forward.  
"This is Mummy and Daddy and Me. This is Uncle Len, Mummy named me after him after he died.  
"Effie, take him into the garden. I need to talk to Lisa”  
As soon as the door shut Mick smiled at the picture and exchanged it for one of the pictures in the hallway, by the door  
They watched from the window as Effie sat Leo on a bench and stepped back far enough that he would not get burnt by her fire and started doing tricks to amuse him.  
Mick went to fridge and got out two bottles of beer, opening them on the counter top and handing one to Lisa that she accepted.  
"he know you're here?"  
"If that’s a reference to Cisco, then yes he does. Who do you think created the photo you were holding?"  
Mick took a slug from the bottle.  
"Word is that you've quit." She continued. He raised an eyebrow in response. "I went to Saints and Sinners." She said as if it explained everything. "You disappeared for years. You call, then never show. Then you turn up at Cisco's work apartment with a teenage flamethrower"  
Mick shrugged, not offering an explanation at his sudden appearance.   
"Long story."  
"He didn't tell Barry about you, if that's what you're thinking. Told him that you didn't show. He did that for me.” Lisa looked around the room. "All the stuff you left behind has been returned, before you ask." Mick shook his head, not really caring what had a happened to it as long as it was far away from him. “Including an interesting fuel source, that he kept for himself. I won’t tell if you won’t”  
"I remembered this place." She continued. "Where you and Lenny lived when you were in town. It was his favourite. I thought I might find you here."  
She glanced out of the window at Effie entertaining her son by juggling fireballs.  
"She's literally a walking felony."  
"Taught her control"  
"You taught her control?" Lisa snorted  
"Why is that so hard to believe?" He tried to look indignant, but couldn't quite pull it off.   
He glanced at Effie in the garden, she waved back, nearly dropping her fireballs. Lisa smiled slowly,   
“You see that little boy out there.” She murmered gently. “If Lenny hadn’t done what he did, Leo wouldn’t have existed. We would all have still been criminals and would probably be dead by now.”  
“Always such a fucking martyr.” Mick snorted, shaking his head.  
They stood in silence, drinking from the bottles, Lisa occasionally opened her mouth to say something, but shut it again. Her apprehension thickly clouded the room, even Mick could feel it, but he held his patience and waited.  
“I borrowed your name a while ago. I hope you don’t mind.” Her words were garbled. “I wanted to pretend I still had a family and you’re the closest I had.  
Mick pulled her into a silent embrace.   
“When you were bored of stealing stuff, you could have married him” she murmured quietly into his chest.  
“How do you know we weren’t already”   
“Lenny would have taken great pleasure at calling you by your new name.”  
Mick pushed her backwards gently, so that she would look him in the eye.  
“Nah, he would have taken mine.”  
Lisa grinned back knowing that is was quite true.  
At night fall, the visitors left. Lisa stopped in the doorway.  
It's ok. I miss him too." Lisa whispered in his hear as she hugged him good bye, then abruptly turned back, dug into the inside pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small photograph. "I almost forgot. I found this for you. It was from a heist before you both disappeared.  
It was him and Len, 2015 by he look of them, in their criminal get up, but he didn't care.  
He stood in the doorway staring at it even as the door closed and the night wore on.   
"So" A voice spoke at his elbow "This is Len, huh?”  
Mock nodded, not trusting himself to speak and treating it as a rehtorical question, which it probably wasn't  
Effie plucked it out of his hand and replaced it with a sandwich.  
"You could almost pass as happy" she smirked.  
He grabbed the photo out of her hand and stalked away. Mick got to his bedroom and put the photo next to his lighter in the top draw.


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Living he could do. Moving on? A possibility.

Mick's phone rang a few days later, Vic's name flashing cheerfully on the screen. 

He'd braced himself for a pep talk peppered with the odd expletive, after Lisa and Leo left but all Effie did was hand him the piece of paper with Vic's number on and walk away. His stomach had been tied in knots. All he got was the voicemail.  
He stalked past Effie into the garden and slid the green button on the touchscreen.  
“We gonna do this then?”  
Mick didn’t waif for the other man to speak first, knowing that if he didn’t get the words out he would never say them. He had to hope that Victor understood.  
“Yup”  
Victor mirrored his usual monosyllabic response to anything remotely emotional. Confirmation that he understood.  
“It won’t be.....”  
A short term thing, was how he wanted to finish the sentence, but it caught in his throat.  
“Nope”  
Victor popped the P in the most irritating way possible that made Mick want to hang up.   
The other end of the phone went quiet, awaiting a reaction of any sort.  
“Ok”   
The word came out as a sigh of relief that his forray into emotional stuff, however brief it was, would not be a waste of time.  
“Just so you know, I don’t put out till at least the third date”  
He should practically feel the smirk down the airwaves. Leaving him to go quiet, unsure of what to do with that particular piece of information, his brain processing it so slowly that he almost missed the next part.   
“But, for you I might make an exception.You can take me out to that bar you keep talking about “  
“Saints and sinners” Those words cringing back memories and connotations that Victor would not understand. He would be there with someone else. Some one who was not Len.  
The line was quiet, Victor had always been good at waiting. He had patience.  
“Alright.” He mumbled, almost feeling the smirk at the response. “9.00, next Friday, my place.”  
He didn’t wait for the response and hung up, knowing that not letting Victor have the last word would drive him crazy. He smirked as the successful conversation. He was really going to do this.   
"Mick and Vic" Effie sniggered as he walked back into the house. "Sounds like a brand of ice-cream"  
Mick glared at her, hoping the look would dissuade her from any further eavesdropping, but knowing that it wouldn’t.   
Effie pushed him into the hallway. They passed the family picture and stopped to look at it.  
"Seriously, Dad. What are you thinking?”  
Living he could do, moving on. He was getting there.  
"We’re just going for a drink."  
The picture fell off the wall and landed with a thump. Her grin widened.  
"Did you tell him that you quit? What about giving back all the stuff he stole for you?"  
"Shut up kid."


End file.
